Harry Potter and the Dawning of Twilight
by Shadows de la Nuit
Summary: A bit of light humor. Twilight and New Moon have magicked themselves into the halls of Hogwarts, putting some wellknown characters under their spell.
1. Chapter 1: In Which Harry and Ron Learn

Disclaimer: Any publicly recognizable characters are the property of either J.K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyer.

* * *

_Chapter 1: In Which Harry and Ron Learn Something New_

* * *

Ron and Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room, laughing between themselves about the fat lady's portrait. Its inhabitant had become engrossed in a book and it took Harry and Ron a good ten times to find out that she had changed the password without telling anyone to "forks." Why anyone would make a password the name of a utensil was beyond them, but they blamed it on the fat lady's eccentricity and joked about whether it would be knives or spoons next. They stopped laughing abruptly, though, when they were met by several "shhs" by the girls occupying the common room. Harry and Ron quickly spotted Hermione in the corner. There were two books opened in front of her in which she seemed deeply absorbed.

"What are you studying so hard, Hermione? It must be difficult for the amount of concentration you're giving it."

"Shh! Be quiet, Ron. I'm reading."

"I'm aware. What are you reading?"

"A book, obviously. Now, could you please be quiet?" Ron and Harry exchanged glances, noticing that Ginny was as engrossed in a book as Hermione.

"What are you reading, Ginny? Ginny?"

"Shh!"

"Well, I never!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione let out a sigh. "Ginny and I are simply reading something that you two would find utterly uninteresting. It would be best for you both to just leave us alone for a bit."

"What is it about, Hermione?" Harry asked, genuinely curious but also a bit afraid.

"Vampires, Harry, vampires."

"What is uninteresting about that? We learned about vampires in…"

"No, Harry, not _those_ kind of vampires – not the blood-sucking, need to be staked through the heart, nothing but evil vampires. Vampires with feelings. Vampires who want to be good." Hermione sighed, and Ginny smiled.

"What kind of rubbish is that?" Ron asked.

"Rubbish! You did NOT just call Edward Cullen rubbish!" Hermione was getting worked up, and Ron backed up a few steps as Hermione dramatically slammed her book and stood up. "I'll have you know Ron Weasley…"

"Wait, who is Edward Cullen?" Harry asked, instantly regretting it as Hermione whipped around to face him.

"_Edward Cullen_ is a vampire. He lives with his family – Carlisle, Esme, Emmet, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice. They are unique vampires because they don't suck blood from humans …"

"They don't suck blood from humans? That would be the defining characteristic of a vampire, Hermione. You of all people should know that."

"Shut up, Ron! You have no idea what you are talking about!"

Ginny closed her own book and said gently, "Hermione, why don't you go back to the book? I'll try explaining it to them."

Hermione huffed but nodded. She glared at Harry and Ron before sitting back down and picking up her book. Finally, she sighed contentedly as she began reading again.

"Well, you see Harry, Ron, there's this town in Washington state called Forks."

"Forks? As in the utensil? As in the fat lady's new password?"

"Yes, Ron. Moving on… a human girl named Bella decides to move to Forks to live with her father after her mother gets remarried. She begins high school in her new town and comes across a group of inhumanly beautiful students: the Cullens."

"The vampires, right?"

"Yes. Now, initially, Bella's presence causes all sorts of trouble for the youngest Cullen." Ginny paused for a moment, deciding on whether or not to clarify. "Well, the youngest in human age, third oldest in vampire years." Harry and Ron just nodded, and Ginny took it for understanding. "His name is Edward. Anyway, Bella's blood is especially appealing to him, and although he survives on an animal blood, he can barely resist. So he runs off to Alaska to avoid her."

"He left the state? Why would he bloody do that?"

"Because he didn't want to kill her, Ron!"

"But that's what vampires do, Ginny. They suck blood from people! Then heroic wizards go and hunt them down! Well, not in the case of our good old friend Lockhart. He just erased the memories of the real wizards who did it and took the credit…"

"Ugh! I'd love to see you try to hunt down Edward."

"Oh, really? And why is that Ginny?"

"Let's see. He's intelligent….he's as hard as granite…he can read minds…his eyes are a dazzling topaz…"

"His eyes? His eyes? What does that have to do with anything, Ginny?"

"Wait, he can read minds?" Harry asked, rather wishing that Ginny would stop talking about Edward Cullen. He, though he was the Boy-Who-Lived, was starting to feel a bit insignificant in comparison, especially if this Edward person could read minds. Harry wished he would have worked a little harder on his Occulumency lessons. _Wait, this is a fictional character being discussed_, he thought to himself. He didn't need to worry about blocking his mind.

"Yes, he can read minds and his sister, Alice, has visions."

Ron let out a laugh. "See visions? Like Madame Trelawney? '_Oh, the burden of the Inner Eye_…'" Harry began laughing, too.

"No, not like Madame Trelawney at all. She's always right…well, almost always…" Ginny seemed upset at the thought of this, and Harry and Ron just looked bewildered. "Well, you see, Bella, who at this point is as hopelessly in love with Edward as he is with her, ends up getting brutally attacked by a vindictive vampire who actually does suck blood – "

"Like real vampires do," Ron coughed. Ginny glared and continued.

" – and after Edward saves her, she tells him that she wants to be like him forever. But the idea of Bella being like him pains him because he believes that becoming a vampire causes you to lose your soul."

"Really?" Harry interjected. "That's an interesting concept actually. I mean, you have to believe that vampires must be lacking a moral center for them to willing take blood from people. But no soul? Maybe the ministry should reevaluate the effectiveness of a dementor's kiss. These vampires don't seem to be too bad off, if they're lacking a soul and all. But I guess the dementors are really irrelevant now since they ran off to join Voldemort," Harry finished as a shudder went through Ron and Ginny at the mention of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-But-Just-Had-Been.

"Anyway," Ginny continued, clearly frustrated, "the second book begins with Bella's dreaded eighteenth birthday and an accident occurs.

Ron looked skeptic at the mention of a "dreaded" eighteenth birthday. Harry politely inquired about the accident.

"Bella is almost killed by Edward's brother," Ginny said.

"Why would his brother go and do that?" Ron blurted out.

"There was blood."

"But you _said_ that they didn't drink human blood."

"Just because they don't drink human blood doesn't mean it's not incredibly tempting. Remember, that's why Edward left in the beginning of the first book – he didn't want to attack Bella because her blood was so appealing. Oh, I give up…"

"No, wait Ginny. I'm curious, really," Harry said. Ron looked at him in disgust. Harry wanting to date Ginny was one thing, allowing her to ramble on about a book just to look like he cared was quite another – especially when Ron had to hear it, too. Ginny, however, looked pleased and nodded her head.

"So, Edward decides he and his family should leave, take all the 'monsters' out of Bella's life. But, when he leaves, he tells Bella that he doesn't love her anymore so she'll move on, even though it isn't true."

"That's awful," Harry said. Ginny smiled sadly in agreement. Ron was trying to count the tiles on the ceiling.

"Even with Edward's departure though, Bella gets mixed up with werewolves and a vengeful vampire from the first book." Ron's ears perked up at the sound of werewolves.

"Werewolves? As in Lupin-kind or other?"

"Well, I guess more like Lupin than other, but they're the protectors of humans against the Cold Ones."

"Cold Ones?"

"The vampires."

"Oh. See, they are the bad guys!" Ron said, feeling as if he was finally catching on.

"No! I mean, some are, but not the Cullens."

"No, of course not the _Cullens_."

Ginny sighed. She looked at Harry. "I really don't think I can keep going with Ron and his interruptions."

"Just ignore him, it really isn't that hard."

"WHAT? Harry! Whose side are you on here?"

"Since when were there sides?"

"There are always sides," Ginny said unhappily, "even when it seems like there shouldn't be. Poor Bella, her boyfriend and her best friend mortal enemies…"

"Ex-boyfriend, Ginny – you said so yourself," Ron said smugly.

"Well, if you would let me get to the end you would know that isn't the case, numbskull."

"Numbskull?"

"Yes, you idiot. Numbskull," Ginny said rather loudly.

"Shhhh!"

"Sorry," Ginny mumbled to the number of girls who were trying to read.

"To cut to the chase, all this stuff happens then Bella goes cliff-diving, but she almost dies and Alice has a vision and thinks she does, so she tells Rosalie and Rosalie calls Edward and he's beside himself and goes to Italy to get himself killed by the Volturi."

"I believe 'cutting it to the chase' wasn't helpful. Rosalie? Volturi?"

"Rosalie is Edward's beautiful yet self-absorbed sister who mistakenly believes that Edward's love for Bella is more of a fleeting infatuation rather than true love. She doesn't know that Edward would rather not exist at all than exist to the ends of time without Bella. The Volturi are kind of the vampires' ruling class. Powerful, blood-sucking – "

"What is it with villians' names starting with v's? V-o-l's actually in this case. Voldemort, Volturi," Harry mused. Ginny acted like he hadn't said anything.

"Edward seeks his own death from the Volturi so he can be with Bella, or in the very least be away from the agony of his breaking heart," Ginny looked as if her own heart was breaking as she said it. Harry put a comforting arm around her. Ron scoffed. Hermione's head shot up from her book and she glared at him.

She had finally had enough. Gazing pointedly at Harry and Ron, she asked, "Would you sacrifice yourself for the one you loved?"

"I consider my battle with Lord Voldemort a bit self-sacrificial, I must admit," Harry said, but he immediately wished he could retract his words. From the look on Hermione's face, that wasn't what she had meant at all.

"I believe that you perceive that as more of a responsibility than a labor of love. Bella had to come to that kind of realization, but it was the opposite. She thought Edward had gone to try to commit suicide because he had left her and then felt responsible for her death, not because he didn't want to exist in her a world where she no longer…"

Ron interrupted. "Wait, he left her?"

"Have you been paying any attention?" Ginny practically shrieked.

"Well still, anyone could tell you that that was a _numbskull_ thing to do. You don't have to be bloody brilliant to know leaving someone never works out for the best."

"Ron! You are missing the point. He tore himself apart by leaving her to try to save her soul!"

"What? Was his leaving going to prevent a dementor attack or something?" Harry looked down at his feet. He got the feeling Ron really had stopped paying attention. He had already brought up the dementors in connection with losing one's soul.

"Oh! You are utterly exasperating, Ron."

"Me? Me exasperating, Hermione? While you and Ginny are the ones mooning over a fictional character?"

"He's a much better person than you are, Ron!"

"Person? Person? I thought we established that he was a vampire and that what was causing all the fuss."

"RON!"

"Actually, Ron, you might want to read this. This Volterra place sounds kind of interesting."

"HARRY!"

"Sorry, Ron." Ron looked over to see Ginny comfortably curled up against to Harry, the book opened before them.

"Ugh. I'm getting out of here. Maybe I'll go to bed."

"Did you know vampires can't sleep, Ron?" Hermione asked lightly.

"Fine, I'll just leave!"

Ron stormed out of the Gryffindor common room. Of all people, he saw Malfoy strutting down the corridor, he cloak billowing menacingly behind him. Suddenly he wished he could go back into the common room. But he decided better of it…really, Edward Cullen or Malfoy? Malfoy all of a sudden didn't seem so bad. He wasn't enchanting what seemed to be the whole female population of Hogwarts. So he proceeded down the hall, carefully scrutinizing Malfoy and keeping his hand securely on his wand.

Ron couldn't stifle his laughter as he passed Malfoy. Under his sinister cloak Malfoy had on a shirt with the words, "Rosalie Fan Club" in elegant script.

"You have a problem, Weasley?" Malfoy sneered, though he pulled the sides of his cloak closer to him.

"No, _I_ don't have a problem at all."


	2. Chapter 2: In Which Voldemort Wants to b

All right, so I figured no Harry Potter story could be complete without Voldemort…

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 2: In Which Voldemort Wants to be a Vampire_

* * *

Ginny couldn't help herself. She was incredibly curious about whether or not being clumsy was as endearing as Bella seemed to make it. So, she waited outside of the Gryffindor common room for Harry and just as he stepped out of the portrait, she started to trip. She found herself… on the floor.

"Darn," she muttered angrily under her breath. She looked up to see Harry looking at her funny. "Oh, what Harry?"

"Oh, nothing. I mean, are you ok?"

"Fine."

"Ok, then… what did you trip on?"

"No idea, I guess I just lost my footing." _I wish Harry was more like Edward_, she thought to herself. She knew she was lucky – she was dating the Boy-Who-Lived, but still… if only Harry was as attentive and caring as Edward, if only his messy hair had some kind of the attractiveness of Edward's untidy locks… She dully realized that Harry was talking. She did realize, however, that it was definitely not in an alluring, velvety voice.

"Oh, I was going to say – it'd be an awful trick for them to start moving the hallways like they do the staircases, right?"

"Yes."

Harry realized that he wasn't winning any points with Ginny. Actually, he rather wished there was some way that points could be counted in relationships – just so he knew where he stood sometimes. They didn't have to be announced or anything, nothing like Professor Snape telling him that he had just lost five points for Gryffindor, but just something. Maybe if he could read her mind like that Edward kid could.

"Hey, Ginny?"

"What, Harry?"

"Can Edward read Bella's thoughts?"

"No."

"But I thought you said he can read minds."

"He can, but he can't read hers. She has a very private mind. Good thing, too. Otherwise Jane could have tortured her."

"Jane?"

"She's one of the Volturi guard. She tortures people by manipulating their mind into thinking they're in pain so they wither in agony."

"Like the Crucio curse?"

"Kind of, I guess."

"Oh." Harry wondered briefly if Voldemort had read Twilight. _Who am I kidding? He's attempting a hostile takeover of the wizarding world. Why in the world would he be reading young adult fiction?_

Harry's scar began twitching uncomfortably. _Great, now would be a wonderful time for Voldemort to be annoyed about something…_

* * *

_Somewhere in a dark, foreboding lair…._

"Damn it! Why do they have to be fictional?"

"Who, sir?" said a cowering Wormtail. He didn't quite like the look on Voldemort's face.

"And that's another thing, why did I never think of that?"

"Think of what, sir?" asked Wormtail again, though he realized he may be interrupting a very important train of thought.

"The Volturi, you idiot. And becoming a vampire."

"The Volturi, my Lord? Vampires?"

"In all of my attempts to become an immortal, you would have thought I would have considered finding a vampire willing to bite me. Or at least one I could put under the Imperious curse. Really, what was I thinking?"

"You'd have to drink blood."

"So? Since when has killing people ever bothered me? I do it only a daily basis just because I think people in general are annoying. This would be even more satisfying – their deaths would serve to sustain me. Why did I never think of it?"

Wormtail, in his attempts to seem remotely intelligent, hurried up and picked up Voldemort's rather singed copy of _New Moon_. He didn't realize his mistake in picking up the sequel rather than the first one, but he immediately stumbled upon something that he thought would stop Voldemort's agonizing criticism of himself.

"But, my Lord! See, you would lose your soul if you became a vampire."

"My soul?? Since when have I got a soul, Wormtail? I haven't had a soul for years. How do you think I survived dying the first time around? If it weren't for the Hor— never mind. In truth, though, you never hear of magic-wielding vampires. But, it doesn't mean it can't be done. And the thought of a formidable gift, an intensified talent that I possess now – I wonder what it would be."

"Your potential to be cruel? Really, targeting a poor, young boy all these years…" Wormtail began, but he was immediately silenced as he began withering on the floor.

_Who needs vampire powers?_ Voldemort thought as he sheathed his wand. He was, however, a bit worried about an entire vampire world existing, one as hidden away as the wizarding world – more than just the few rogue vampires that the occasional wizard ran across. _No, there couldn't be…_ But Voldemort felt something go through him that he hadn't felt in quite a while – a superstitious shudder. Maybe he would do a quick spell to see if he could locate Volterra. There had been no mention of a vampire with any kind of shielding abilities in the books…


	3. Chapter 3: In Which Harry is Started and

_Twilight_ and _New Moon_ continue their not-so-hostile take-over of Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world. This really was meant to just be a oneshot…

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 3: In Which Harry is Startled and Ron's Life is Threatened_

* * *

"I just had the oddest vision," Harry said in response to Ginny's inquisitive look. He noticed he was looking up at her, leading to the realization that he was lying on the floor. "If I'm not mistaken, Voldemort is actually afraid of something."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named afraid of something, Harry?"

"Not just something, your vampires."

Ginny glared venomously at Harry. "Oh, very funny, Harry. I know you were acting like you cared when I told you about _Twilight_ and _New Moon_, but please don't insult my intelligence by saying that You-Know-Who is afraid of the Cullens."

"He's actually more concerned about the Volturi – Ginny, stop! I'm being serious!" Harry yelled futilely at Ginny's backside as she walked briskly down the corridor. He struggled to remember the spell that froze another person's feet, but he decided it wasn't worth the risk of messing up magic when he was worked up. He really had seen Voldemort reading _Twilight_. That had to mean something, right?

What could Voldemort possibly be worried about, though? He didn't have to worry about every girl around him falling in love with this Edward person. Harry had read enough to envy almost everything about him – the way his untidy hair actually looked good, the fact that he could read minds, the ability he had to play the piano (Harry thought hard on this one, he had actually never even attempted playing an instrument before), the fact that even if he had a vindictive wizard trying to kill him all the time he couldn't actually die… the only thing that remotely bothered him was the werewolf thing. He rather liked Lupin and couldn't imagine him being his mortal enemy, or smelling bad for that matter. Oh, and the soul issue. That was a sticky situation to be certain. He thought he'd talk to Nearly Headless Nick about it. Who better than a ghost to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of, well, eternity?

As Harry contemplated all these things and more, Ron came walking down the hall. After being harassed by every girl he met in the hallways about reading _Twilight_, he had finally given in and was walking nonchalantly with the book propped open in his one hand and a rather tasty pastry from the house elves in the other.

"Harry! You're right, this book isn't too bad," Ron managed to say between mouthfuls of pastry. He briefly wondered about the repercussions of simultaneously eating and reading Hermione's book, which she didn't know he had taken, but he reasoned she had already read it. She wouldn't need it again, at least not for awhile, right? He pushed the thought aside and continued talking to Harry. "I mean, I seriously questioned my sanity when I began reading a book that Malfoy had a shirt for, but this is actually interesting."

"Ron," Harry said breathlessly, "I had a vision of Voldemort."

"Really, Harry, do you have to say his name? And you're interrupting my reading with something that sounds vaguely important. Do I have to be the one you tell? It's not like I can really do anything about it."

"But Ron, he was reading those books." He pointed at the _Twilight_ copy in Ron's hand.

"Harry, this – " Ron said pointing to the same book Harry just had, " – is a singular book. You shouldn't have used 'those' in the previous sentence. Do they teach grammar at Hogwarts?"

"You knew what I was referencing, Ron. He's reading them!"

"The Dark Lord? You're talking about the Dark Lord, right?"

"Do you know any other Voldemorts, Ron?"

"Not that I can think of. It is rather a unique name. A result of rearranging the letters of his real names, isn't it? I think you said something about that. I guess it'd be highly unlikely for anyone else to have that name, then. But the Dark Lord reading a teenage vampire novel?"

Harry paused thoughtfully. "I guess he wants to keep up-to-date. I mean, when you're battling a teenage boy who somehow always manages to defeat you, you need to do a little research. But you would think that he would think this is a girl's kind of book."

"Well, Harry, I think you're letting your imagination run away with you."

"But he talked about finding Volterra! What if this is the moment we've been looking for? His attention is elsewhere! He's looking for vampires, and ones from a book for that matter…."

"Harry, he's probably playing with your mind again." Harry looked at Ron with a shocked look on his face – Ron knew better than to bring that up. If he had been at all skilled at Occulumency, Voldemort never would have tricked him into believing Sirius was in trouble…and, if nothing else, Harry had confided in Ron that he felt insecure that Edward could read minds and he couldn't even properly block his.

"That would be stupid, Ron," Harry said defensively.

"Think about it. If Voldemort was really reading _Twilight _or _New Moon_, don't you think he would be the least bit ashamed? Did he look at all ashamed?"

"No," Harry answered as he contemplated what Ron had just said. "I guess you're right. Maybe he is just playing with my mind."

"Come on, we're going to be late to Professor Trewlaney's class. She predicts your death often enough that it'd be a pity if it was a result of her killing you for always being late."

"If she could see the future at all, she'd know it was inevitable and just come to grips with it."

"Haha – that's a good one Harry. Trelawney coming to grips with something resembling reality. Haha…"

"RRROOOONNNN!!" Harry and Ron turned around quickly to see Hermione storming down the hall. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT THAT IS MY _TWILIGHT _BOOK YOU HAVE IN YOUR GRIMY HAND!"

"Yes, Harry. We've really got to get to divination – now!" Ron said in a hurried voice. "Trewlaney may kill you if you're late and Hermione is going to bloody murder me…"

They rushed down the corridor, Ron barely breathing until he was out of Hermione's wand range. "But isn't that what friends are for? Sharing and all that?" Ron murmured, but the look he had seen on Hermione's face had told him the answer – _Twilight_ was not to be reckoned with.

Hermione continued to glare in the general direction of Ron and Harry even after they had fled. _Ron is such a coward_, she thought to herself. _Can't even accept responsibility for taking my book and desecrating it. Edward would take responsibility. He wouldn't even hesitate to offer buying me a new one. Then he and I could have some kind of meaningful argument that I might actually lose. That never happens when Ron or Harry and I argue._ Hermione sighed and returned to the Gryffindor common room, pondering all the while how she would exact her revenge on Ron.


	4. Chapter 4: In Which Characters are Conce

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 4: In Which Characters are Concerned about Jacob_

* * *

Ron loved Jacob Black. Not in_ that_ sense of course, but he could really identify with him. He was always the best friend. Often, he thought he deserved just a little bit better. There was nothing like getting the shaft when someone else got the glory…or the girl. He wasn't the jealous type but sometimes he wondered when it was going to be his moment.

He truly sympathized with Jacob. It wasn't bad enough that Jacob didn't get Bella, but half of the girls Ron knew had entirely skimmed the four-hundred odd pages of New Moon just to get to where Edward was back. Edward was great and all, but what about Jacob? Jacob was pretty cool, Ron thought. He was a werewolf! He didn't go killing people just because he wanted their blood. He was a protector, the clear good guy. And he understood people. Ron didn't think that was one of his own strong suits, but he certainly admired it. Ron was more like Edward in that regard, a bit stubborn, but at least he tried. He didn't think he had made very many errors in judgment like Edward had made with Bella. Sure, he and Hermione had their moments, but they were never his fault, were they?

Without a doubt, Ron liked Jacob better. He even knew about cars. Ron wasn't as adamant about his fondness for Muggle things as his dad was, but there was a certain attraction to the unknown. He remembered his first experience with the…oh, what was it called? tellyfone, telferone… telephone – that was it. He had gotten Harry in a bit of trouble with the yelling through the mouthpiece and all. He sighed. Jacob had gotten in trouble over a phone conversation, too.

Ron walked down the hall, feeling a bit glum about the whole situation. If Jacob couldn't get the girl, how was he, Ron, supposed to? At least he couldn't be jealous of Harry in that regard. There was no girlfriend envy when your best mate was dating your sister.

"RON!"

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron cursed under his breath. He had managed to steer clear of Hermione for a while, but he seemed as if his luck was running out. He hurried down the hall, barely noticing a passing Luna Lovegood waving a meek hello.

Luna observed the Twilight book clutched tightly to Ron's chest as he flew down the hallway. _There's another one_, she thought. Luna had always prided herself on not doing what was popular. It wasn't that something being 'popular' negated any of its credibility or value; it was just that Luna knew she was different. And, by being different, she knew that what was popular usually wasn't for her. All this was more of a subconscious realization than conscious awareness, but nonetheless, when Luna noticed many of her peers devouring Twilight and New Moon, she knew that those were books she would most likely never read.

Earlier that day, Luna had found herself seeking the company of Neville Longbottom after Care of Magical Creatures. Expecting to find him with Professor Sprout working on some kind of magical plant, she made her way over to the greenhouse. The herbology teacher, however, told her rather roughly that Neville had not been by in the past two days, a very unusual occurrence. Not quite sure where she would find him, Luna made her way to the library. It was on her way there that she passed a rather scared looking Ron in the corridor.

Luna walked into the library to find a very pensive Neville at one of the tables. Neville was in a state of confusion. This, in truth, was not unusual in of itself, but Neville had never suffered such an agonizing internal battle before. He was utterly perplexed. It took quite a few tries for Luna to attract his attention.

"Neville, what ever is the matter?"

Neville took a rather deep breath and stated, "Relationships are like dandelions, Luna."

"Really, Neville?" Luna tried to sound polite, but she was a bit baffled. She nodded her head encouragingly, though, and Neville took another deep breath, as if he were about to begin. But then he took another deep breath. The depth of his breath wasn't exactly necessary, but the taking in of air itself was relatively essential to his survival as a non-vampire. He took another deep breath and then began in a rush.

"Yes. Think of a dandelion. Think of it when it is yellow. That's how relationships begin. Like a dandelion, they're sunny and happy and even though they might be bad, like a weed, you can't help liking them. Then they grow more beautiful. The dandelion softens and begins turning white, a magical sphere of many seeds that each have the potential to blossom." Neville paused and closed his eyes happily for a little bit, reveling in the imagery of it. He really loved plants. He opened his eyes again and stated more morosely, "But then the seeds drift away. Maybe they leave by choice; maybe they're forced to leave. Regardless, the dandelion is no longer beautiful and like many a relationship, it dies. But the seeds! The seeds can grow to become more dandelions – more relationships. Sometimes, the relationships are for the better. Maybe it's not the same, but it's not something you regret. Maybe it's only putting more weeds in your garden, but you love those weeds. But then, one of the dandelions ends up being that same love you had before – the sunny, happy dandelion smiles at you and everything is well again. But what about the other dandelions?" Neville put his head in his hands.

"Neville, I really don't think you're talking about dandelions anymore." Luna herself was bewildered by the dandelions. It had started out as a lovely analogy, but it had grown a little odd by the end. She was even one who usually appreciated weeds more than their floral superiors, but she felt she was missing the connection Neville was trying to make. She momentarily wished she could read Neville's mind and work through his convoluted statement.

"What about Jacob!" Neville exclaimed to the confused Luna.

Confused, perhaps, is too light of a word. Luna, considered by many the oddest student at Hogwarts, was completely mystified by Neville's outburst. She started considering if he might be going crazy…

"Jacob, Neville? Who is Jacob?"

He looked at her with a shocked face. Neville was usually slow on the uptake, but Luna not knowing who Jacob was appalled him. Thinking about it a bit, he knew he really shouldn't be that surprised, but still… not knowing who Jacob was? He idly wondered if she knew who Edward was. He was sure she did. The thought slightly angered him – it wasn't that he didn't like Edward. Truth be told, he really liked Edward. He even liked Jasper and Emmet – especially Jasper. He knew what it was like to cause problems. But he also really liked Jacob. He decided that rather than explaining it, though, he'd let her discover it on her own. He thrust his _Twilight_ and _New Moon _copies across the library table to her.

"Oh, Neville. Not these." Luna looked chagrined. She didn't want to hurt Neville's feelings, but she had no intention of reading them.

"Read them, please Luna?"

"Al – right." Luna gathered the two books and left the library. Neville put his head back into his hands and pondered the fate of poor Jacob Black. A few hours later, he eventually got himself up and went back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered if Luna had decided to give the books a try.

He was met with a peeved Hermione, a sheepish-looking Ron, and a giggling Ginny when he walked through the Fat Lady's portrait. He was about to ask what was going on when a flustered Harry rushed into the room.

Harry looked awful. It looked like a war had been waging inside of his head. In fact, it had only been the making of plans for war, but he was stressed nonetheless. His eyes warily met his friends' and in a hushed voice, he said, "We're reinstating the D.A. meetings – Voldemort is up to no good."

"Oh, good!" Everyone turned around to see Luna. She noticed their wide-eyes and quickly amended, "No, I mean…it's not good about the Dark Lord and all. But I was wondering – do you think we could talk before we get down to business? I think I have finally solved the mystery behind the mind-reading Avolros my dad has been looking for lately to write about in _The Quibbler_. He'll be so pleased. He said that they're known for their onion-like skins and pale white coloring…" Luna continued talking, but Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and even Neville were walking briskly and determinedly away.

As they walked, Ginny considered asking if they could rename the D.A. to something having to do with Edward Cullen – like the E.C.A., for example. She also considered asking if they could start a fundraiser. It had dawned upon Ginny that Hogwarts was lacking internet access, and computers for that matter, and she had learned that there were _Twilight _and _New Moon_ outtakes online, and a certain place called FanFiction.

--

Next chapter: Voldemort is making his plans for a take-over of Volterra, if he can find it…


	5. Chapter 5: In Which Voldemort Begins to

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 5: In Which Voldemort Begins to Plot_

* * *

"WORMTAIL!" Voldemort's menacing voice practically shrieked. "You, here, NOW!"

"What my lord?" Wormtail was a bit worried. Voldemort speaking in single syllables never boded well.

"Arm."

Wormtail proffered his right arm, but Voldemort just looked disgusted.

"Wormtail, for as many times as we do this, for as many times as you complain and whine about the burning and the pain, do you not remember that the Dark Mark is on your left arm?"

"I'm always hoping it's something else…"

"Arm. Left. Now. I need to beckon my Death Eaters."

Wormtail begrudgingly pulled up his sleeve, making the Dark Mark visible. Voldemort placed his wand on the foul design and the searing pain began. Wormtail wondered if this was what a vampire transformation was like. From what he could gather, it was a torturous fire that burned through your veins, and that sounded very much like the hideous pain that was shooting up his arm. For all of Voldemort's supposed brilliance, you would think he could inflict just a little bit less harm on his followers. Yes, a simple text message – "We're meeting soon, don't forget to come or I'll personally kill you" – would still instill the same amount of fear without causing the resentment. Maybe Wormtail would have the guts to suggest it one day, but he really didn't have a spine. Or any bulk. He wished he could be like Emmett. Strong, muscular – loveable… no one ever thought Wormtail was loveable.

Wormtail had, however, found a point of pride. The way his right hand, the silvery one that Voldemort created for him after he had sacrificed it to bring his master back, shimmered much like what he thought a vampire's skin would in the sun. He was quite pleased about it, but didn't think he should share with Voldemort. Voldemort was taking the vampire thing a bit far… he was still rambling quite a lot, seemingly having a problem with the concept of "fiction."

Wormtail cowered as his ears were met with the sound of swishing cloaks. The appearance of some very intimidating black figures pleased Voldemort immensely as his followers began to arrive. He allowed himself to imagine that he was ruling at Volterra, that these menacing cloaked forms were his triumphant blood-sucking vampires returning. But no, they were just wizards.

"Ah, Bellatrix," Voldemort hissed at the arrival of Bellatrix Lestrange. "I have a new mission for you."

"Yes, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, terribly excited about serving her master. "Would it have to do with that awful Potter boy?" She direly wished it did.

"No, I have a mission in which you, as my only current female follower, can fulfill. See there?" he asked, pointing at a table across the room. "There are a set of dark leggings, a short skirt, and a high-necked vinyl top which I want you to wear and lure people to my evil lair so we can massacre them. There are some violet contacts also."

Bellatrix looked at him incredulously. "I don't mean to question your awe-inspiring plans, my Lord, but would it not be easier for me to put these people under the Imperious Curse and just force them here? I'm all for the indiscriminate massacring and what not, but this get-up thing sounds a bit… unlike me."

"And you call yourself a faithful follower!" Voldemort bellowed.

"I am, I am. But I don't understand!"

"If any of you," Voldemort said, his blood red-eyes glaring pointedly at each of the death eaters, "were any kind of followers, you would have anticipated my reading of _Twilight _and _New Moon_ and see the threat it poses to us all. We might be out-done!"

"Out-done by characters in a book?" Lucius Malfoy managed to ask.

"You don't know if they're characters out of book, you fool! They could be among us, among us this very moment!" Lucius considered this for a bit. In truth, he actually had read _Twilight _and knew of his own son's current obsession with a certain blond vampire. Perhaps he could brighten young Malfoy's day by telling him that there was the possibility of Rosalie Hale existing. If the Dark Lord said she was…

"My Lord, what is that?" Wormtail asked cautiously, noticing for the first time a large piece of parchment covered with detailed plans.

"Those," Voldemort said smugly, "are my 'Voldemort's Strategy for Overtaking Volterra' plans."

"You mean, it is true? Volterra exists?"

"Well…" Voldemort said hesitantly, "I haven't been able to prove it. But," he said, with an air of confidence and authority that was much more characteristic of him than uncertainty, "I have serious suspicions!"

"These plans, master, they look a bit…confusing."

"I have taken everything into account."

"I think that's the problem. You even have werewolves. Since when were their werewolves involved?"

"Wormtail! Did you not read last night?"

"Of course I did, master. But I needed to sleep at some point – " Wormtail trembled as he saw Voldemort's murderous glare.

"Vampires – don't – sleep. Are – you – saying – they – are – better – than – us?"

"No, of course not my lord. They could never be as powerful or as evil or as intelligent as you – or more powerful than your faithful Death Eaters," he quickly added as he saw narrowed eyes around him.

"Quite right, Wormtail."

"My lord, I see that I have not been invited to your little expedition to this… Volterra," Snape said. Voldemort jumped in surprise, which wasn't something he often did. He had assumed that Snape would not show up. Though Snape had performed a rather important service to him, he still didn't quite trust him. And that was the problem. Marcus could see relationships. If Voldemort was to attack Volterra, he could not have any apparent weaknesses. Wavering loyalty would be just the thing that Marcus would pick up on…

"Ah, Snape. You have more important duties than are little trip to Volterra. Like watching the Potter boy in that school of yours…" Voldemort said as causally as he could.

"But of course, my lord." _Please, how stupid does he think I am? I'm the bloody Half-Blood Prince, _Snape thought to himself. _I'd like to see any of those vampires survive some of the potions I could brew up. _Snape began to cackle, causing many of the death eaters to look at him oddly. "Sorry," he muttered.

"So here, my faithful Death Eaters, are the plans. Avery, Nott, and Goyle – you are the decoys. You are to travel around the world until you happen upon some of the Volturi guards hunting, as they do far away from their home and not at all in any predictable place. You are to allow yourselves to be captured and brought to the feeding antechamber, where the rest of us, having been alerted, will wait."

Snape decided to interject. If he wasn't to be going, the least he could do was try to help with the plan formation. "I believe there are already to two distinct problems, my Lord, that may need fixed."

Voldemort glared at him, thinking that Snape must already be planning to interfere. It would be just like him to decide to be good and recruit the oddly invincible Harry Potter and possibly even involve… the Cullens! For if the Volturi existed, then the Cullens must also be real… "What may I ask are these problems?" Voldemort questioned, his words dripping with malice.

"Well, first you have Avery, Nott, and Goyle trying to be captured. Well and good. But, they have no idea when or where they will be taken. This could take years! It may never even happen! How many people do you hear being taken by vampires? Huh? Just about as many as you hear being killed by wizards. The probability of Avery, Nott, and Goyle just 'running across' your Volturi guard is highly unlikely if not completely improbable. Secondly, you have you and the other Death Eaters awaiting their arrival in the Volturi stronghold. If they are the decoys, how in the world do you expect to get in in the first place?"

"We would bewitch Gianna."

"Not to praise your vampires, Voldemort, but what of their ability to smell? Possibly with a proper potion you could somewhat mask your odor, but then what of their hearing abilities? I apologize, my _Lord_," Snape tried to infuse as much respect and loyalty as he could muster in that one word so Voldemort wouldn't kill him on the spot, "but stealth is not on your side. If you are to attack Volterra, given that it is even a place to begin with, naught but surprise can help you. It would have to be fast and quick."

"Fine!" Voldemort yelled, swiping the parchment with the plans from the table. "I will _adjust_ our current strategy. But none of you," he said, glaring at all the death eaters present, "are leaving until I'm done." With that, he left the room, leaving his fellow wizards to patiently await his return.


	6. Chapter 6: In Which Voldemort Finds Volt

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to veggielatineer, pawfoot and alwayssmile877. Voldemort thanks you greatly…

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 6: In Which Voldemort Finds Volterra_

* * *

The Death Eaters were not… happy. Each second they spent waiting for Voldemort's return was one more second that someone they knew could become suspicious of the reason behind their respective absences. Malfoy was the most skittish. He was painfully aware that he had been permanently branded as a death eater and did not harbor any false notions that he could escape Azkaban again if he were caught. He hoped his vast fortune would last long enough for him to bribe everyone until he died. It was truly too bad that he was unfamiliar with both the stock market and a certain Alice Cullen. But he did know that no matter how much money he had, it would never be enough to make people entirely blind to his frequent disappearances. And every time he disappeared, he knew that someone might very well deduce that something evil was afoot. Mere suspicion would be all it took for everyone to be on their guard for Voldemort's next move. Malfoy let out a harsh laugh. There was definitely nothing evil afoot right now. Preparing to attack a fictitious vampire fortress – it was laughable. If only the ministry knew! He couldn't help pacing the length of the room. Many of his fellow wizards glared at him, clearly annoyed with his behavior. He sighed, wondering how much longer Voldemort was going to take when he burst through the door.

"IT IS A PLACE!" Voldemort announced, proceeding to cackle wickedly as his followers looked at him with dumbfound expressions.

"What is a place, my Lord?" Wormtail asked. It was in situations like this that the other death eaters cursed Wormtail's very existence, even if he had been responsible for Voldemort's return. His stupidity served as a constant provocation that inevitably aroused Voldemort's anger. At least he was forced to take the brunt of Voldemort's fury…

"VOLTERRA, YOU IDIOT!" Voldemort proceeded to inflict the Crucious Curse on Wormtail. As he thought about it, he should probably be practicing. It would never do to storm the vampires' stronghold and not be in top shape. He momentarily wondered which of his death eaters would speak next… someone would eventually, it was unavoidable. Otherwise, he could channel his rage at all of them for being silent, and they knew it. _Yet, they all stand there like cowards_, Voldemort thought.

"But…how do you know, my Lord?" Malfoy finally asked. He seriously hoped Voldemort wouldn't point his wand in his direction, but he took a preemptive step behind Nott just in case. Voldemort turned angrily at him, but Snape, deciding to be kind for the moment, interrupted Voldemort's wrath by asking a more… pertinent question.

"How do we get there, my Lord?"

"Apparate, you fool," Voldemort snarled. "And what we? Remember, you're not coming!" Voldemort was feeling extra malicious towards Snape. He could afford to be now, now that he was right! Volterra existed!

"My Lord, if you were so certain that Volterra truly existed, why didn't you just try Apparating there in the first place?"

"Severus – I have not gotten to where I am by being careless," Voldemort said smugly. He thought back to all of his evil plans through the years – he could truly only find fault with a few. And those were entirely not _his_ fault. He cringed at the image of the Potter boy his mind conjured. But he was digressing… Looking straight at Snape, he said venomously, "I believe one would admit that my time, though precious, was well spent ensuring that our future preparations are not going to be in vain."

Snape smiled thinly. _And that is why you had the parchment with the terrible plans before, hmm? These last few hours you just couldn't think of any better plans and so you dedicated them to actually looking at a map. Novel idea, that. A map. Never would have thought of that, no_… Snape smiled more broadly. He had known that Volterra was a place all along. Unbeknownst to his students, and fellow wizards, he had a computer. He chuckled as he thought about how much Voldemort disdained all things Muggle – he would have saved himself a lot of time if he had ever tried Google. Oh well, he couldn't bring up that point. There was, however, another one that he could.

"As _ecstatic_ as I am about your discovery, my Lord, I do not believe that the proof of Volterra existing can allow one to conclude that – "

"Conclude what, Snape? That vampires exist? I think that was already proven ages ago. And you called yourself a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor last year," Voldemort sneered.

"I do not for a minute discredit the notion that real vampires exist, but your fabricated vampires on the other hand…" Snape trailed off suggestively.

"OUT! NOW!" Voldemort screeched at Snape. The death eaters watched the spectacle before them in astonishment, their gaping mouths and widened eyes betraying their shock. No one was ever just _dismissed_ from Voldemort's presence. They were either tortured or killed. Snape smiled at Voldemort's demand, however, and disappeared into thin air. Voldemort sighed. He regained his composure and turned towards his other death eaters – his faithful death eaters. "We have plans to make." And Voldemort would ensure that those plans were infallible…

* * *

Harry grimaced as the scene that had been playing in his head dissolved. The pain he felt coursing through him nearly caused him to double over. Volterra was real. He could only hope that Edward Cullen was not.


	7. Chapter 7: In Which Malfoy Wants to be E

A/N: A brief look at the on-goings of Malfoy, because Voldemort is taking his time with his plans…

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 7: In Which Malfoy Wants to be Edward_

* * *

Malfoy cursed his luck as he walked down Hogwarts' halls. He had passed Harry, Hermione, Ron, and company as he was walking, and after glaring maliciously at them, he fell into a state of depression. He suspected that Harry and all his little friends had been off to one of their "D.A." meetings. Part of him wondered if they would take the time to talk about _Twilight_ – its obvious popularity at Hogwarts was sure to include Potter and his little band. Even if he got along with those Muggle loving fools, though, Malfoy could not admit to reading it – he had erred grievously when he wore his "I Love Rosalie Fan Club" shirt, but now was not the time to dwell. He was, instead, "above it" -- or so he pretended. Little did he know that the Dark Lord he aspired to imitate was in way over his head with the whole matter.

Storming down the hall, Malfoy saw fit to take his anger out on a couple working on a Rubik's cube in the corridor. Why any wizard would bother with such a thing was beyond him. He made all the colors fly off, leaving the cube utterly blank. How he hated all things Muggle, except for two very specific Muggle books…

He swept into the Slytherin common room, or the lair as he liked to think of it, and sat down angrily. He wished he had friends more like Caius and Marcus than Crabbe and Goyle – their skulls were so dense that not a single thought, wise or otherwise, could penetrate through to their brains. The thought of them being anything like the vampires Malfoy had come to admire and envy was laughable. Malfoy cursed his luck again. How he wished he could be a vampire.

He would even settle to be Edward, even though he lacked that certain viciousness that Malfoy desired. There were certain perks, however, to being Edward rather than one of the Volturi; he would not have to practice the foul habits of the Volturi and others by drinking… he shuddered as he thought it… Muggle blood, and he would be able to read minds. He cared little about reading the mind of the only exception to Edward's rule; who cared about a Muggle? Yes, Malfoy actually rather liked the idea of being someone like Edward. It wouldn't be hard for him at all to infuse a little evil into Edward's character if only he knew how to _become_ Edward…

There was one thing he could certainly do – adopt Edward's appearances. All he needed was a Polyjuice potion. But as he thought about it, he realized his cool logic had failed him. Edward would have to be a real, tangible person for him to concoct a functioning Polyjuice potion. Malfoy couldn't very well pick a fictional hair from Edward's fictional head and expect the spell to work. But he could try doing the potion halfway. He could find someone who possessed at least a few of Edward's physical traits and try to magically alter the rest from there. But who?

Edward was described as good looking, even god-like in appearance. Malfoy thought hard. Oliver Wood had been said to be quite good looking, but he had long since left Hogwarts. Maybe he should try pinpointing specific qualities. Bronze-hair, pale skin, golden eyes…

Bronze-hair, if it could not be found, could be translated to a reddish-color, Malfoy thought. Who had red hair? Malfoy groaned – the Weasley's. A piece of Ron's hair would be the easiest to procure, but Malfoy quickly pushed this idea to the side. The rest would take too much work for only the hair color. Plus, hair dye was a remarkable thing.

So pale complexion. Who was known for being particularly light-skinned? Malfoy chuckled to himself – the Bloody Baron was pale, but a pale apparition, not a living person. Malfoy sighed.

Alright, so golden eyes. Mrs. Norris, Finch's cat, had piercing golden eyes. No, Malfoy could never manage changing the rest. Though, he did think that he had more to work with if he chose Mrs. Norris than he did with Ron…

Maybe specific physical traits didn't need to be considered. Bronze-hair, pale skin, and golden eyes could all be relatively easy to change. He reverted back to his initial thought – what he needed was someone who was just generally good-looking. He needed someone who would serve as the perfect blank palette. But who?

Why, himself, of course. Malfoy prided himself on the realization. How could he not have thought of his own potential? Yes, some spells for some coloring changes were all he needed and soon everyone would be mistaking him for the magnificent Edward Cullen.

He didn't think for a moment what Voldemort would do if he mistook him for the real Edward Cullen. Nor did he contemplate the multitudes of people who thought he was much more akin to Mike Newton than he would ever be to Edward Cullen.


	8. Chapter 8: In Which Ginny is Frustrated,

A/N: As usual, it has been a horrifically long time since I last updated. I deeply apologize.

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 8: In Which Ginny is Frustrated, Ginny Sleeps, and Voldemort Arrives in Volterra_

* * *

Harry rubbed his head furiously. His scar was twitching, his headache pounding. If he heard _his_ name one more time, he'd go into convulsions. Or hurt someone. And that wasn't a pleasant prospect.

Instead of the strategic planning Harry had intended, the D.A. meeting had turned into an in-depth analysis of _Twilight_ and _New Moon_ and speculations for the upcoming installation. Harry could not understand the fascination and overwhelming anticipation for a book that would not be released for months to come. He groaned as he heard another theory for the tragic event that would lead to the demise of Bella's humanity.

"Everyone, we need to get to the soul of the issue here!"

Hermione turned to look at Harry and glared. "Harry, do you really have to use the word 'soul' so inconsiderately? Some people don't have souls, and it's truly insensitive to use it. Try 'heart' of the issue."

"I swear upon my _soul_, Hermione, that there are much greater concerns that need to be addressed here than word usage and its implications."

Hermione shook her head, tilting her chin up defiantly. Her tone was brusque as she retorted, "Really, Harry, because all we've heard is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is reading _Twilight_. Honestly, if more men took his lead, we'd all be better off. _Some_ of you could seriously learn something from _Edward_."

Harry began to sputter out something, but he didn't manage to say anything coherent before he stood up and flew out of the room. Hermione shrugged her shoulders and everyone returned to their book discussions. After a few hours – to be precise, 3 hours, 23 minutes, and 14 seconds closer to the release of _Eclipse_ – everyone left the Room of Requirement to return to their dormitories. Ginny and Hermione were the last to reach their beds and succumb to sleep…

* * *

The meadow that had appeared in so many of her daydreams lay before her. Ginny meticulously observed every detail, striving to commit it all to memory. She temporarily wished Hermione was there with her – she was so much better at remembering things – but Ginny quickly realized that Hermione would ruin the perfect haven that lay before her.

Ginny was startled when she felt two cold arms wrap themselves around her tiny frame. It was then she realized her heaven was complete. She turned around to see the two topaz eyes she so often imagined, the bronze hair that reflected the sun's golden rays. His skin literally did sparkle like diamonds – no, a stone infinitely more precious and priceless, maybe the destroyed sorcerer's stone. She reveled in the glory of her companion, waiting for him to speak. Had Bella not said that no heaven was complete without his velvety, musical voice? "Edward," she whispered quietly. She waited…and waited…

"Ginny? Ginny?" _Who is that_? Ginny thought hazily to herself. Surely Edward's voice didn't sound like…Hermione's?

"Oh! What?" Ginny sat up groggily but also quite angrily. Why did it have to be a cursed dream?

"Ginny…" Hermione started slowly, then erupted in giggles. "Did you know you talked in your sleep?"

Ginny turned a bright red, a shade rivaling Bella's almost constant complexion. In fact, had it been tinged with a bit of orange, it could be said to be the exact color of her hair. She groaned, but then picked up her pillow and threw it at Hermione.

"It's what you dream about, too, isn't it?" Hermione scowled, then nodded her head in agreement. Both girls began laughing and Hermione sat down on Ginny's bed.

"Can you imagine what it'd be like, well… if he were real? Especially here! Oh, I'd have to admit, I'd certainly be dabbling in some love potions. I think the risk would most certainly be worth it. We could recreate the meadow in the hallway where Fred and George magicked the swamp when that awful Umbridge woman was here."

"Edward Cullen with a wand…" Ginny sighed dreamily.

"I know."

"I bet he'd play Quidditch."

"No, he couldn't. Enhanced abilities and all that, you know. Plus, if it were sunny…"

"Everyone would know he was a vampire, Hermione, so he wouldn't have to worry about the sparkling skin."

"True. And we wouldn't have to worry about any rogue animals out in the Forbidden Forest! Although he would have to stay away from the unicorns. Hagrid would rip him apart."

Ginny burst out laughing. "Hagrid – tear – Edward – Cullen – apart… Good one, Hermione."

"Oh shush. But think of how perfect it would be for him here. I mean, he wouldn't have to worry about staying in secret or anything. All of us know how that is like. No blatant magic or anything."

"He'd still have to be careful. We're still breakable humans, you know, even if we do have wands."

"I wonder if vampires are affected by spells."

"We know they are, Hermione. Look at the ones we studied in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ones like… Edward… don't… exist…" Ginny sniffled. Hermione put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I guess you're right. But on the bright side, that means there's no one like the Volturi." Both girls shuddered. The Volturi had become almost as bad as a word as _Voldemort_.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Volterra, Italy..._

The grimace on Voldemort's face was unmistakable. The Death Eaters cringed at the sight of it, trying frantically to discern the source of such disdain. They didn't need to wait long…

"There's _happiness_ here! Tangible happiness – can't you feel it?" Voldemort hissed. "It's interfering with my evil aura!"

He clutched his black cloak tighter to him in attempts to make all the happiness go away. He abhorred others' happiness, positively loathed it. He should have thought to bring the Dementors with him, but it wouldn't have done anything for his mood. _He_ was allowed to happy.

As he pursued the thought of summoning the Dementors despite the effect they would have on his own mood, he thought of something else: why threaten the chance of any possible good feelings between him and the Volturi? Sure he was planning to overthrow them and make them his subordinates, but he was rather hoping they would take it well.

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a rare smile, one of infinite pleasure. He felt as if he were on the verge of something great, a pivotal point in his career as a master villain. He closed his eyes, imagining the Potter boy trying to defeat a vampirical Voldemort. His smile broadened. Utter, irrevocable triumph was a bite away…


	9. Chapter 9: In Which Ginny Thinks She See

A/N: Thank you to jandjsalmon for the inspiration for this chapter. Sorry it's a bit short (as in, really short), but enjoy!

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 9: In Which Ginny Thinks She Sees Edward_

* * *

Ginny trudged down the corridor. Though her sleep had been filled with wondrous dreams, she had not gotten a sufficient amount and she was utterly exhausted. It hadn't helped that Harry had flown into her and Hermione's chamber rather early to rant about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being in Volterra, Italy. Hermione simply glared at him while Ginny tried to give him a few indulgent nods and shrugs until he stomped angrily out of the room.

But really, the thought of the Dark Lord, the most feared wizard alive, chasing after imaginary vampires _was_ a tad ridiculous. She could never tell Harry that, of course, but she was starting to worry about him. It had been a busy year, and all the pressure of being the Boy-Who-Lived and such had to be stressful. It probably didn't help that she was being a little less supportive because she was slightly enamored with a certain Edward Cullen… She wondered briefly if Harry could have come up with the story about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being obsessed with _Twilight_ to get everyone to stop reading it, but he wouldn't stoop so low, would he?

Watching her feet as she walked, she couldn't believe her eyes as she saw a flash of bronze pass her. Quicker than she would have believed possible, she whirled around to watch the bronze-haired boy who had just passed her continue down the hall. She turned back to the direction she had been walking, closed her eyes tightly, and pinched herself. "Ouch," she muttered as she looked down at the arm she had just injured. So she wasn't dreaming. That didn't mean, however, that she wasn't hallucinating. She took a deep breath and turned back around to chase after the retreating stranger.

_What am I going to say? It's not as if it is really him. It's not possible… but, well, you do never know. Look how tall he looks. And that perfectly tousled hair. Oh, Harry is going to kill me. Alright, you're almost there…_

Mustering her courage, she managed a meek hello as she tapped the boy on his shoulder. He turned around and Ginny gasped.

"It's – it's – it's…"

"Yes, Weasley?"

"YOU! UGH! What in the world did you do to your hair?" Ginny inquired furiously. She would have stormed off, but she was curious as to what he had been thinking.

The boy scowled at Ginny. "I felt the need for a change. Why? Is something the matter you Muggle-lover?"

Ginny flushed. Of course something was the matter. She had just mistaken Draco bloody Malfoy for Edward Cullen! What had she been thinking? Well, it really was his fault. He had dyed his hair!

No one could ever know about this. Absolutely, positively no one. Especially Harry…


	10. Chapter 10: In Which the Death Eaters Fi

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 10: In Which the Death Eaters Find Nothing_

Voldemort positively shrieked with glee when he saw it: a sign that read "Tour the Italian Underground: A Must-See Visitor's Attraction." After composing himself, he spoke, in a certain disinterested tone, "Ah. My followers, it seems we have stumbled on the entrance to the Volturi stronghold."

"But my Lord," Wormtail uttered, "weren't the Volturi characterized as being subtle in their hunting? A sign that is basically yelling 'Come in here!' isn't exactly how I imagined them going about attracting prey." Although many of the Death Eaters looked at Wormtail appreciatively for displaying some intelligence for once, Voldemort looked indignant.

"I still say it is the entrance to the Volturi stronghold."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then we wasted all of five minutes. When you have eternity staring you in the face, does it really matter?" The Death Eaters pondered this revelation for a bit, then shook their heads.

"Good. Malfoy, you may lead us."

"Me? What makes you think I want to lead us to our deaths?" Quickly realizing what he had said, Malfoy endeavored to cover himself. "Not that I don't trust the plans you have conceived, my Lord, but… Oh, never mind. What I meant, of course, is that I could not possibly accept such an honor, my Lord, as leading us to what shall be unquestionably your greatest moment of triumph. No, I simply couldn't. It is too great an honor that you try to bestow upon me. If you yourself, my Lord, insist on another, may I suggest Wormtail? For it was he who played such a critical role in your resurrection. Surely he, above me, deserves the honor."

Malfoy completed this with a sweeping bow, lowering his head so Voldemort could not see the relief he felt upon giving, what he believed, a suitable reason for him _not_ to be the first to die. Because they _were_ going to die. If it weren't the vampires that killed them, it would be Voldemort. He would take his disappointment out on them or find some reason that they were responsible for the Volturi's absence. Malfoy knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and all he could hope for was that somehow there would be a moment that he could make an impossible escape. An impossible escape would be entirely impossible if he were first.

"Malfoy," Voldemort stated grandly, and Malfoy looked up at him worriedly. "Your humility does you great credit." He paused, and Malfoy let out a quick breath. "For that… I must simply insist."

There was one word that quickly flew through Malfoy's head, and that word was not one that is usually considered genteel. No, quite the opposite in fact. But, he calmed himself best he could, and muttered, "Such an honor." He began walking, slowly and not very courageously, toward the poor man who was about to have tour tickets stolen from him by means of magic. Malfoy didn't feel an ounce of pity.

* * *

"Look above! There's a grate!"

"My Lord, you have commented on the last five we've seen." Malfoy groaned. He was in the lead, but unfortunately not far enough away from Voldemort to be spared his excited chatter as they traveled the winding underground tunnels. "Any one of them, yes, could be the one through which the Cullen siblings, Bella, and the other vampires descended, but grates are not restricted to only the Volturi stronghold, or to Volterra for that matter." It was going to be a long day. And then they were going to die. Malfoy was not in a good mood.

* * *

Hermione was in as foul a mood as Lucius Malfoy, but hers was not a reflection on what she considered to be _her_ impending death – it was Ron's. She had somewhat forgiven him for his complete disrespect in stealing her book without permission, but while that had been pardonable, the fact that her book now rained crumbs and was a thorough tribute to the various foods Ron had eaten during his reading was decidedly not. She was livid.

"Ron, what ever are you doing?" Hermione asked sternly upon finding him in the commons room. She might have been utterly furious with him, but she couldn't help but to inquire as to what had him scribbling so frantically on a piece of parchment.

"Oh, Hermione! How nice to see you! I'm writing… my… Potions… homework. Yes, that's right. Potions. For Snape."

"Ron, Snape isn't teaching Potions this year," Hermione responded, smiling. So he was doing something interesting. Or something humiliating…

"Leave me alone, Hermione," Ron pouted. He stuffed the piece of parchment under his arm, but Hermione was too quick. As he tried to walk away, Hermione pulled out her wand.

"Accio parchment!"

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione unrolled the parchment triumphantly, her smug expression quickly giving way to one of incredulity as she read what he had written. Her eyes wide, mouth agape, she looked up from the writing to a blushing Ron.

"Ron… is this… what I think it is?"

"No, 'course not."

"I can't believe it."

"It's not what you think it is."

"What is it then, Ron?"

"Um…"

"Ron! I can't believe it!" And with that, she began laughing madly. She dropped the parchment as she wrapped her arms around herself in attempts to keep herself together. It was hopeless. She left the room giggling wildly. Ron's coloring rose proportionally – the harder she laughed, the redder he got. He fled the room behind her, leaving the poor parchment to lie dejectedly in their wake.

_Stupid, bothersome, nosy Hermione_, Ron thought as he trudged up the stairs to his room. _Just had to go and laugh._ He sighed, trying to come up with a good place to hide it so nobody else would ever see it. _Perhaps in that blasted magical creatures book Hagrid made us get… that one that bites people…now where... OH NO!_

Ron practically flew done the stairs, but he wasn't quick enough. In the commons room was Ginny, his own sister, reading his parchment. Life couldn't get any worse. With his head bent down in shame, he went to quietly return upstairs, hoping that Ginny would read it without recognizing his terrible scrawl, have her laugh, and put it back down where she found it. Then he could retrieve it and burn it…

His face aflame and his body quivering in horror, he completely missed the haggard Harry that was sitting scribbling at his desk as furiously as Ron had been. But what Harry was writing differed substantially; he was formulating plans to thwart Voldemort. But, try as he might, he just couldn't concentrate properly…

There was something that Harry distinctly wanted to know. It was the answer to a question that, over the past few days, had been bothering him more than being subjected to Voldemort's inexplicable flashes of irritation and euphoria. It frustrated him more than when he was trying to master a new spell. It annoyed him and irritated him and aggravated him and infuriated him more than the Dursleys…

_Why?_

Why did someone feel the compulsion to write bloody _Twilight_?

Couldn't she see what it was going to do to him?


	11. Chapter 11: In Which Harry and Snape Con

A/N: Umm… it's been awhile. Again. My apologies.

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 11: In Which Snape and Harry Converse_

* * *

Voldemort began considering how to unveil his master plan. Conventional wisdom dictated that he should have enlightened his followers to what they would be doing previous to arriving in Volterra, but since when had Voldemort been conventional? No, he had decided to wait for the perfect moment, the moment when one of his Death Eaters, caught up in rash excitement, near-delirious with the wonderment of all they were about to accomplish, would beg of him to know…

"Um, what exactly are we doing now?" Wormtail asked, though he was addressing Malfoy and not Voldemort.

"That's what I would quite like to know," Malfoy replied irritably. "We are here, walking mindlessly through tunnels that have yet to lead anywhere. There _is_ some plan or other we're suppose to be executing, right?"

"Something to do with vampires, eh Goyle?" Avery asked to the Death Eater on his right.

All of them were quite oblivious to the vicious glare Voldemort was giving them. His eyes narrowed, his hand itching to grab his wand and blast several of his Death Eaters into oblivion. But he knew he couldn't afford to. Not if he were to defeat the Volturi and become the ruler of the vampires. He shook off his feelings of displeasure and looked up.

"Ah! Another grate!"

* * *

Snape was bored. He sat in his office, only shifting intermittently to alter the focus of his mindless staring. There were, of course, numerous things of interest to look at: the ceiling tiles, the floor, the books across the room, the various potion bottles lying about, his desk…

He really had nothing to do.

Hogwarts was unusually quiet. There was no mischief-making for him to find, no life-or-death situations requiring his interference. He loved life-or-death situations, especially when they involved Potter. Especially if he had the chance to decide whether he would give in to his personal loathing of the boy and let him die or save him to spite Voldemort.

Snape considered himself a freelancer. He liked having the ability to decide on his own free will what he should do and then being able to blame it on whichever side was convenient if need be. He found it a bit reminiscent of being like Laurent. He appreciated belonging to the team with someone powerful, villainous or otherwise. But he also thought he had a conscience, one that required him to at least consider what the right thing to do was. He would, in Laurent's place, certainly have gone to Denali and tried his hand at abstaining from human blood. But, he also understood that that might just not have worked out. Such was life.

Snape groaned. He wished Voldemort was getting himself killed – brutally.

He stood up and walked out of his office, his cloak swishing reassuringly behind him as he made his way down the corridor. He saw no one lingering about. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing his students hastily make their way toward the edges of the hall to avoid being in his way and incurring his wrath. The absence of fearful students was rather disappointing. He sighed. His ears perked up, though, at the sound of another sigh – a much louder one – down the hall. Snape sighed louder. The answering sigh was not only louder, but so miserable sounding that Snape felt a twinge, be it a very small twinge, of pity. But he also felt indignant. Who dare sigh louder and more wretchedly than him?

"Who's there?" Snape asked authoritatively, brandishing his wand. Only another sigh met his ears.

"I said, 'Who's' – POTTER!" At the sound of his name, Harry started, looking up to see the menacing eyes of his least favorite professor at Hogwarts (naturally discounting the professors who had worked implicitly for Voldemort and had attempted rather blatantly to kill him). Harry sighed again.

"Stop sighing, Potter! What ever the pathetic excuse for your melancholy and depression is, I don't want to hear it! Cease your moping and return to your dormitory! Immediately!"

"I can't."

"Why would that be, Potter?"

"I simply can't."

Snape chuckled maliciously. "Forget the password?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Someone trying to kill you in your dormitory?"

"No, not today – as far as I know, of course."

"Then why, Potter?"

"Well, you see Professor, there's this… oh, never mind." Harry sluggishly got to his feet, not even bothering to try defying Snape. He simply wasn't up to it. "I'll go to the library. The only people there will be reading… no, can't go there. Sn – I mean, Professor Snape, would anyone be down in the dungeons right now?"

"Why in the world would you go down there?" Snape couldn't help wondering what could possibly be wrong with Potter. He might hate him, but this was disturbing. He had never seen Potter so… pathetic? Maybe it was indicative of Voldemort's progress in Volterra. Snape could only hope. That made him wonder, though… "Oh, Potter?"

Harry's retreating figure, determined to find somewhere quiet even if it were the dungeons, turned to look at Snape.

"I am curious about something, Potter. Have you ever read _Twilight_?"

Harry appeared as if someone had punched him in the gut. No, not just someone: a very strong and handsome bronze-haired vampire. He doubled over, dazedly speculating on what was more worrisome – the nauseating feeling in his stomach or his light-headedness. He decided on the latter as he felt himself beginning to drift forward until he was on the ground in a near faint.

Snape, watching Potter with slight horror yet a smidgen of satisfaction, walked over to Harry's fallen figure. Towering over him, he stated, "I'll take that as a yes. Something you would like to talk about?" Harry, still suffering from shock, managed to move his head in a motion that left the observer free to interpret it as either a positive nod or negative side to side shake. Snape decided on the former and said, "Good," before grabbing Harry gruffly by the shoulder and proceeding to drag him to his feet and back down the hall to his office.

Harry moaned something that, to one who was in the know, sounded like "Not Edward Cullen," but Snape, being more familiar with the Volturi than any other characters of _Twilight_, was unable to discern the garble and pushed Harry rather roughly into a chair upon reaching his office.

"Alright Potter, begin."

"Begin what?"

"Talking about _Twilight_." Snape smiled expectantly. He hoped that he could learn something from Potter that would either give him an upper hand over Voldemort in his obvious obsession or learn some news of the Dark Lord and, Snape hoped, his current failings.

Harry looked at Snape giddy expression wearily. Why, of all people, was it Snape who came across him and had to enjoy his melancholy? He abruptly ceased his wallowing and began speaking crossly. "You want to revel in my misery? Fine. Edward Cullen is a vampire. From what can be gathered from every breathing female in this school, he is the epitome of chivalry, selflessness, and intelligence – not to mention his dashing good looks. He falls in love –"

"Potter, stop your little tirade." Snape sighed in exasperation. Potter's misery had nothing to do with Voldemort. "From what you are telling me, I am to believe that your self-pitying originates from feeling inferior to a fictional character, who, even if he were alive, lives on an entirely different continent and is, I believe, already taken. This is irrelevant. If you are unaware, and you must be if your only concerns are about your pathetic self-image being damaged by pointless comparison with a character in a book, the Dark Lord is making a rather extensive tour of Volterra, Italy in search of your vampires."

Harry looked unconcerned. "I know."

Snape frowned. "You know?" he asked skeptically.

"I've been getting erratic flashes of his trip. I've decided I don't care."

"You don't care?"

"No. I've tried planning. I've tried telling people. No one cares. And quite frankly, why bother?"

"Why bother?"

"Well, if Voldemort really finds the Volturi – rather big 'if' – he'll probably be sucked dry. Good so far. If not, he'll try to bargain with them to make him into a vampire. Well, if what Edward," Harry flinched involuntarily, but continued, "believes is true about a soul being lost in the process of transformation – kind of a bartering tool for immortality – Voldemort is at a lost, having split his soul and hidden the pieces into Horcruxes –" Harry paused in horror as he realized what he had just said. Snape appeared unsurprised, though, at the mention of the Horcruxes. "Anyway," Harry continued hastily, "no soul means no vampirism. Also good. And, if he doesn't find them, well, everyone else has enjoyed a bit of time uninterrupted by him and his _Death Eaters_ wreaking havoc everywhere." Harry glared pointedly at Snape. Snape ignored him.

"And then he'll be back for you to take care of again."

Harry gulped. "Right."

"Well, it seems you've thought this pretty well through," Snape said, rising from his chair. "One question – if he does manage to become a vampire, what will you do then?"

"I'll have bigger problems to deal with."

"Really?"

"If he finds the Volturi, there will be a very strong implication that… other… characters… from… _Twilight_… are… real…" Harry started hyperventilating at the thought.

"And this would be bad?" Snape was almost gleeful at Harry's obvious discomfort and terror.

"You really have no bloody idea, do you?"

Harry got up from his chair, and with one last look of disdain toward Snape, he opened the office door and stepped back into the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ginny walking toward the dining hall. He went to follow her, but he saw she was deeply absorbed in some sort of reading. He grimaced and stormed off in the opposite direction.


	12. Chapter 12: In Which Ron's Poem is Share

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 12: In Which Ron's Poem is Shared_

* * *

Ginny was relatively oblivious to everything around her. All there was to the world at the present moment was her and the piece of parchment in her hands. It wasn't a very attractive piece of parchment – there were ink stains and food stains and completely unidentifiable stains, the hand-writing could be described as a messy scrawl at best, the paper itself was crumpled and wrinkled and torn. But it didn't matter in the slightest. What mattered was the content of the parchment. And if she could have it her way, it would be for her and her only forever.

_On the blackest day in forest dense Indifference shown, a false pretense Boundless love felt but not expressed Heart and mind both most distressed_

_A promise broken in a moment's time Betrayal of the heart the crime The pain, the guilt, the grave regrets The mistaken choice in making bets_

_The blackest nights in places bleak Hell for those both strong and weak Endless pain known but hidden deep The nights through which one longs for sleep_

_Only memories left of one true love All happiness gone for a lone belief Nothing left but pain and grief For no one but the one I love _

Ginny simply melted at the words. She read them over and over. What boggled her most, though, was she didn't have a single idea as to the author. Although she told herself that it was Edward Cullen who had written the poem, she couldn't fully delude herself into believing it. Therefore, walking the corridors of Hogwarts was someone who was sentimental and expressive – someone she very deeply wanted to know. She peered down at the words again, deciphering the awful mess and imagining the poem in Edward's elegant script. She sighed pleasantly, closing her eyes and allowing the words to envelope her completely. She didn't have the foresight, though, to stop walking.

Ginny muffled a cry as she felt herself hit something rather solid and begin falling toward the ground. Almost as suddenly, though, she felt two arms catch her frail form and right it so that she was once again standing. She had to turn slightly to view her rescuer, but in the few moments she had been falling, she could have sworn she saw a flash of bronze. It only took her a moment to figure out what that fact implied.

"DRACO MALFOY!" Ginny huffed angrily. "STOP RUNNING INTO ME!"

"Well, Weasely, I'm quite sure it was _you_ who ran into me. I wasn't the one walking down the hall spouting poetry and closing my eyes!"

Ginny's hand flew to her mouth. "I was talking out loud?"

"Yes, Weasely, so if you don't want anyone to find out, I'd shut my mouth and keep walking."

Ginny glared at him but was feeling too foolish to retort. She gathered up as much dignity as she could and started walking away. She could hear a voice taunting her as she retreated.

"There was a young girl named Ginny, Who was red-haired and freckled and skinny She went tumbling down And a glare and a frown Were all I got for helping the ninny."

Ginny bowed her head in shame and stared at the ground as she walked. That infuriating Malfoy! Another voice addressed her, though, and she was forced to look up.

"Hey Ginny. What do you have there?" Ron was shuffling his feet nervously as he spoke, his eyes looking apprehensively at the parchment now safely tucked under Ginny's arm.

"Um… homework, Ron. Potions… homework. Yes, that's right. Potions. For Snape."

Ron let out a chuckle. "Snape isn't teaching Potions this year."

"Yes, he is."

Ron thought for a moment. "No, he isn't."

"Really? I could have sworn he was." Ginny kept walking as Ron paused and appeared thoughtful. Then he realized that, regardless if Snape was indeed teaching Potions or not, it was beside the point. He knew very well what that parchment under her arm was and he was utterly determined to get it back.

"Ginny!" He yelled at her, who had distanced herself quite a bit ahead of him as he had stood thinking. "Wait up! I want that parchment!"

Ginny whirled around to face him. "Why?"

"Because I want it."

"That's a terrible reason, Ron. And you don't even know what it is."

"Yes I do, so give it back!"

"Give it back?" Ginny looked at him in mute horror. He couldn't have… there was no possible way that… her brother?!

"Ginny, please?"

"You didn't… you wouldn't… Ron," Ginny groaned, "Did you write this?"

"What? No, of course not." As much as she wanted to believe him, she saw the tell-tale blush creep along his cheeks. She stared at the parchment, gave a resigned sigh, and handed it to him. For some reason, it just didn't seem quite as romantic now.

"Here you go."

"Oh, thank you. You have no idea how embarrassing it would have been if… well, you know. You should have heard Hermione laughing about it. Oh, bloody hell. I need to burn this."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed. Sure it wasn't as romantic anymore, but she still couldn't see torched!

"What do you care? You've had your laugh – spare me your mockery," Ron stated dramatically. He pulled out his wand and, with a flourish, pointed it at the parchment. "I'm going to burn it."

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

Ginny swallowed. "Because… because it's good, Ron!"

Ron looked surprised for a moment. Then he smiled smugly. "Really, now? You think so?"

"No, I'm just being nice."

Ron's brow furrowed. "You're never nice."

"Then I must be telling the truth. If you're planning on burning it, can I have it?"

"You really want it?"

Ginny figured she'd better lie. There was no telling what would happen if she told her brother that she thought he was wonderfully poetic. Ego inflation would be the least of her problems. "No, but it would be such a waste of good parchment if you just burned it. I'll just a do a tidying spell and clear the page up."

"I can do that, if you want me to." Ron held up the parchment, wand in hand.

"No!"

"So you want the poem?"

Ginny glared at him, then sighed. "Fine. Yes. Give it here."

"I don't think so. My wonderful poetry shouldn't be wasted on my sister."

Ginny stifled a giggle. "You said that Hermione didn't find it so wonderful."

Ron pouted. "It's not my fault she doesn't appreciate art. She probably doesn't have a creative bone in her body. Too smart for that, you know."

"That would explain why you're so artistic, then."

Ron looked confused for a moment before realizing what Ginny was implying. Then he scowled at her and began rolling up his parchment.

"What are you doing with that?"

"I don't really know, to be quite honest, Ginny. But I think I'll just hold on to it for now. Save it until I find someone who likes poetry, I guess. Too bad you do. That has to hurt my chances."

"Why?"

"I guess percentage-wise, it just makes sense in my head that if you like poetry, then there must be at least three other girls who don't. Too bad you aren't one of them."

"I think most girls like poetry, Ron."

"Hermione doesn't."

"Hermione has never been quite normal, Ron."

"True."

With that Ron turned to walk away, poem safely in hand. A feeling of insecurity washed over him again, though, and he looked back at his sister. He needed to check.

"Hey, Ginny?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"It really is good?"

"Yea, it is."

Ron exhaled in relief. "You really think I captured Jacob's emotions, then?"

That threw Ginny for a loop. "Jacob? What are you talking about?"

"Jacob Black. You know, the person whose perspective the poem is from. It is obvious, isn't it?"

"This is not from Jacob's perspective. It's from Edward's."

"No it isn't."

"Of course it is. It's Edward who is capable of deep emotion and expression of inner turmoil. Jacob, well, he's Jacob. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but really Ron… I'd say his love for Bella is more of an infatuation. What you wrote, it goes beyond that. It's love, Ron. And it's Edward who understands love. Really, compared to Edward's one hundred odd years, Jacob is only what, 16?"

"You have it all wrong, Gin. Whereas Edward understands love, no doubt in my mind about that one, it is Jacob who has to deal with unreciprocated love – a true source of angst. And the age argument – if you're implying that Edward is capable of more love than Jacob because he's older, than that implies Edward loves Bella more than she loves him. If I'm not too mistaken, the bulk of New Moon strove to disprove that notion."

"But Edward had to live with thinking that Bella was moving on without him! And then he went to commit suicide because he thought she died! Ron, this is clearly a poem from his perspective describing the day he left her in the woods and the pain he experienced during his self-inflicted exile."

"It is not! It is how Jacob felt that day he betrayed her and her dangerous pursuits to Charlie. Even though he knew she might hate him for it, he knew that it was worth the agony that her hatred would cause him because he was doing it for her safety. He betrayed her and his own heart because he loved her! Can you possibly imagine how he must have felt at the end of the book?"

"Ron?"

"Oh, what Ginny?"

"I'll tell you a secret."

"And what would that be?"

"Your poem will be a bigger hit if you say it's from Edward's point of view. Trust me."

"But it's not fair! I like Jacob!"

"No one said you didn't. And no one said that they didn't. It's just… well, Edward is Romeo and Jacob is Paris."

Ron sighed exasperatedly. There was no way he was giving this up. "Well Paris got a city named after him, you know! What did Romeo get?"

Ginny smacked herself in the head. Only her brother… only Ron would think that a Shakespearean character had a city named after him. "Fine, Ron. Do what you will. I'm going to go find Harry. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Harry?" Ron thought hard on it. He really hadn't seen Harry anywhere in awhile. That was rather odd. He shrugged his shoulders. "No, can't say I've seen him. Maybe he went to see Hagrid. He tends to gravitate towards the hut when things get rough and he's seemed out of sorts lately."

"Right. I'll go check then." With that, Ginny and Ron went their separate ways.


	13. Chapter 13: In Which There is a Change i

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 13: In Which There is a Change in Perspective_

* * *

What had begun as a brief break from reading turned into an afternoon doze as the girl fell blissfully asleep with loving arms wrapped around her. She turned a bit, readjusting her body more comfortably against the one next to her. Her movement, though, caused the book that had been precariously resting on her to fall to the ground. She awoke at the noise and heard a gentle chucking.

"Did the book bore you that badly?"

"It didn't bore me per say, it was just a bit different than my usual choice of reading material."

"Well, I figured if you enjoyed having vampires and werewolves in your life, a book about wizards might be just the thing for you."

"I guess I just have a penchant for the classics. Modern literature in general just doesn't seem quite as good." Her response was met with laughter and she picked up the book that had fallen. "Really, it's not that bad."

"What do you think of the main character?"

"Oh, Harry? He's alright, I guess. Does have a lot on his shoulders, that's for sure. And honestly, everyone around him ends up dying."

"I can't say I have much patience for him. Most of the tragic events in his life seem to originate with him and he seems to escape them all with dumb luck. He also tends to be a bit moody. Not much of a romantic, either. And those glasses. And his hair…"

Harry awoke with a start. He felt like a mess. He was drenched in sweat and his blankets were twisted uncomfortably around him.

His dreams about Voldemort had nothing on these nightmares. Edward Cullen seemed to haunt his every step. Not even sleep was safe anymore…

Harry looked around, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that was pouring through the dormitory window. If he had to guess, it was probably late afternoon. After visiting Snape, he had relatively passed out once he got back to his room. Why did everything in his life have to be so stressful? He needed a way to calm down. And as much as he detested it, as much as it pained him, in an odd way he knew exactly what would do it. It really was backwards, and he was well aware of it, but he reached under his bed to feel around for the book. Within moments, he was resituated comfortably in his bed and turned to Chapter 13: Confessions.

"Harry?"

Harry quickly slammed the book shut. Why, why did Ron have to walk in and interrupt his reading? Especially when, after promising never to read the books again (or at least not until the next one came out), he had finally given in and just wanted to enjoy it?

"What do you want Ron?"

"Oh, nothing. Ginny's looking for you."

That got Harry's attention. "Really?"

"Yea, she was just heading over to Hagrid's to see if you were there." Harry nodded, placing the book on the side table, and began straightening his clothes.

"I guess I'll head over there myself then."

Ron nodded. Harry tried fussing with his hair, but realizing for the millionth time it was simply too impossible, gave up and walked towards the door.

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yea, Ron?"

"Question for you before you go."

"Sure, Ron."

"Well, if you had something important, or embarrassing, and you needed to hide it, what _type_ of place would you hide it? Don't worry about a specific place but just in general."

"I wouldn't worry as much about the actual place but rather about what kind of spell I was putting on the place. A good arming spell works wonders."

"But what if the person from whom this… thing… is being primarily hidden is very good at working and breaking spells?"

"You're hiding something from Hermione?" Harry deduced. He shrugged his shoulders, "I guess I'll think on it. I would just keep it on your person for the time-being. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, Harry. Really, it's nothing."

Harry didn't feel like pushing Ron. Ginny actually wanted to see _him_.

A/N: At this point, I doubt my apologies really mean all that much, but I'm terribly sorry about how long it took me to update this chapter. I promised myself that the beginning of summer would mean that I would update more often, but it seems life just likes to be crazy. And it doesn't help that I'm a helpless procrastinator, even when it comes to Fanfiction. I want to give everyone who has continued reading and reviewing this story the biggest thank you in the world. It really means a lot :O)

Til next time!


	14. Chapter 14: In Which Fred and George Lam

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 14: In Which Fred and George Lament_

* * *

"I've never seen so many irate teenagers in my life."

"Or so many hexes." Fred lifted a large, purple tentacle that was only just beginning to resemble an arm again.

So it hadn't been the brightest idea to sell fake copies of _Eclipse_ in their joke shop. But honestly, for as clever as the spells they casted in retaliation were, one would have thought that the students of Hogwarts would have realized it wasn't quite August 7 yet. Then again, if the manuscript for the book had been finished, it wasn't too far of a stretch to think one could manage to magically steal it. But then sell it in a joke shop?

"I guess it proves that some things are sacred." Unfortunately excluded from the list of 'some things,' George realized, were his legs. He looked mournfully down at the boil-covered appendages that use to be a nice flesh-color instead of pink and green.

"I guess you're right." Fred shook his head wearily, trying very hard to forget the massacre that had just taken place. "Pass me some more Butterbeer, would you?"


	15. Chapter 15: In Which Harry Dreams of Bel

A/N: Being that this story has never been exactly canon-compliant, I am going to completely disregard the events of the seventh Harry Potter book. Since this is more of a humor fic than anything else, I don't think this is a big deal in any way, but I thought I should mention it. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing about the upcoming release of another book (cough…_Eclipse_… cough), but I guess we'll see soon! I promise that if I plan to incorporate events from it, I'll make sure that I put a spoiler warning up. Thank you to all of you who have continued to read this despite my sporadic updates. I hope you enjoy!

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 15: In Which Harry Dreams of Edward and Bella Again_

* * *

Harry looked around wildly. He could have sworn that he was on his way to find Ginny, but he found himself instead lying on the floor. He took him a second to identify the classroom doors around him so he could figure out where he was. He had the feeling something odd had just happened, and the more he thought about it, he seemed to remember something about two people. The one was a girl, brown hair with brown eyes and a pale complexion, the other a boy even paler, with bronze colored hair –

He had dreamed about Edward and Bella again.

He groaned out loud. It was all coming back. They had been sitting in her room again, a yellow and orange book, with the blazing words "Harry Potter" on it, propped on the girl's lap. There had been some discussion about her being done with the books and Edward had laughed, asking her questions about what had happened. Harry couldn't really remember that part, though he couldn't say he regretted it. Shaking his head, he situated himself so he could stand up and get off the floor.

"Whatcha doing down there, Harry?"

Harry looked balefully at Ron, who was accompanied by Hermione. "I was overtaken by an episode, if you will."

"Oh! What is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named up to?"

"It wasn't exactly about him."

"You're getting visions of others now, Harry? Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione looked concerned. "Don't you think we should – "

"It's really nothing important."

"Stop trying to keep your burdens all to yourself. What was it about?"

"If you must know, it was about Bella and Edward."

"Wait, you don't possibly mean – "

"Yes."

"Oh."

Harry sighed and began to describe the two dream sequences he had had of Edward and Bella. Ron seemed almost excited about the visions.

"You don't think that you may be getting flashes of their actual lives, do you?"

"That couldn't possibly be it, Ron. They're fictional characters."

"I bet you wished they weren't…"

"Reason dictates that they aren't real, regardless of how much we do or do not wish they were. Anyway, Harry saw them reading 'Harry Potter.' It's clearly his subconscious reversing the situation in order to express suppressed feelings of inferiority."

"I still think they may be real."

"They aren't, Ron. Even if they were, that would make the Volturi and the others real rather than figments of an author's, albeit a brilliant author's, imagination."

"Well, who said the Volturi weren't real? Harry, you haven't been having recent flashes of He-Who-Must-Be-Name's progress in Volterra, have you?"

"Oh, now you believe me that Voldemort went to Italy? Well, the answer is no, I haven't actually. I've been getting nothing."

"That just proves the point!"

"What point, Ron?"

"The Volturi have obviously killed the Dark Lord and his followers!"

"Honestly, Ron. You don't think Harry would know if he were dead?"

"The Volturi are vampires, Hermione! They kill in mere seconds! What kind of vision was Harry going to get? A bright light or something? A moment of infinite blackness? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is now He-Who-Has-Been-Sucked-Dry!"

"He-Who-Has-Been-Sucked-Dry? Really, Ron, that isn't even funny."

"It wasn't meant to be, Hermione. Plus, no one's really ever trusted your sense of humor. Honestly, if one were to – " Ron was abruptly cut-off by the sight of his best friend convulsing violently on the floor. Hermione's jaw dropped in horror.

"W-w-what do you think is going on?" Ron stuttered.

"I'm not quite sure. Harry? Harry?"

The convulsing ended as suddenly as it had begun. Harry shook his head back and forth, as if to dispel any remnants of the fit.

"That… hurt."

"It bloody looked like it did. What happened?"

"I was in… a tunnel of some sort. It was dark, and there was stonework everywhere. I could hear voices, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I felt… angry… and frustrated about something. As if I were looking for something but couldn't find it."

"The Volturi!" shouted Ron.

"Oh, come off it, Ron."

"It has to be the Volturi, Hermione. You can't imagine how far Voldemort's taking this entire thing. Anyway, one of the death eaters came up to me then, and… I think I killed him."

"Did what?!" Hermione and Ron shouted at the same time.

"Voldemort is obsessed with immortality. He thought he found the perfect solution. Now he's questioning the Volturi's existence. But the trip couldn't be an entire waste, could it? I think he's made another Horcrux."

"Another one?" Ron asked.

Hermione was looking incredulously at Harry. "You think he made the book a Horcrux?"

"Well, remember how I told you that Dumbledore said he used the deaths of adversaries and disloyal followers to work the magic necessary to create a Horcrux? Right after I – I mean, Voldemort – killed the death eater, he pulled _Twilight_ out of his cloak and that's when the pain began. It was excruciating."

"As if your soul was being torn apart," Hermione mumbled.

"Wait!" Ron shouted eagerly.

"What, Ron?"

"Well, it follows that if you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are some how connected, thus resulting in your visions of his going-ons, then the ripping and storing of a piece of his soul into a book where the characters may or may not be real may result in your getting glimpses of their actual lives. So they are real!"

"Ron, as much as I hate to tell you, your logic is immensely flawed. First off, they just aren't real. But, if they were and the storing of Voldemort's soul into their fictional reflections would allow Harry to see visions of their lives, this would all be happening now instead of before."

"Oh. It was just an idea."

"A bad one," Hermione said bluntly.

"I'm going to leave you to your bickering and try to get some sleep. I'll see you both later." Completely forgetting that he had intended to go find Ginny, Harry turned toward the Gryffindor dormitory and walked away from the increasingly louder voices of his two best friends. He sighed. At least their wands were still in their pockets.


	16. Chapter 16: In Which Harry is Glad That

* * *

A/N: Surprise! An update only two days after the last! However, there is some bad news: As of right now, this is the last chapter of _Harry Potter and the Dawning of Twilight_. I'm terribly sorry to be abrupt about it, but I think the upcoming release of _Eclipse_ unfortunately provides a good way to end this story. Thank you to all of you who have read this story, and a special thank you to all of you who have taken the time to review. I hope you have enjoyed reading this half as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 16: In Which Harry is Glad He Can Sleep_

* * *

Voldemort was feeling an odd, nice sense of release. After all the time wasted and all the disappointments, after all the twists and turns in tunnels that never ended, he had finally stopped, had taken a deep breath, and had killed the death eater closest to him. And he felt better.

The moment was made even sweeter by the ridding of a part of his soul. Such a fussy thing, one's soul. Makes one feel emotions and what not. And regret. He could do without the guilty conscience, thank you very much. He had come to realize that he was sure the Cullens had souls and consciences and all those _humane_ things he didn't really want. And if they had them, the Volturi would probably have them, too – they were just better at hiding that part of their nature. Better not to find them, then. Seek immortality elsewhere. And since when had he ever wanted anyone's help anyway? It was better this way – really.

"My Lord?"

"Oh, what Wormtail?" Voldemort glared at him. He fingered his wand – at this point, he didn't care how many Horcruxes he made.

"We seem to have a problem. If you have failed to notice, which, of course, I am sure you haven't, but… well… you see… we're lost." Wormtail looked hopelessly around the stone walls that surrounded them on all sides.

"Lost, Wormtail? If _you_ have failed to notice, Wormtail, which, of course, you must have in order to imply that we could be _lost_, I am in possession of a wand. And, I do believe, that you, too, along with the others, are also in possession of wands. Which means, of course, that we are able to apparate from these dingy, dank tunnels to venues better suited to the most powerful wizards in the wizarding world."

"But what of the Volturi, my Lord?" Malfoy asked suspiciously. It was too much to hope that they could possibly be giving up on this ridiculous hunt.

"We are giving up on this ridiculous hunt, Lucious. But, if you wish, you may continue it yourself. I, for one, am leaving. I encourage all _faithful _death eaters to do the same."

"Giving up?" murmured Goyle. "_We're_ giving up? We've never given up."

"We have never been on such a fruitless venture before, Goyle. We have wasted countless hours, even days, down here. Would you like to end up like… oh, who is it laying on the floor there? I can't tell with the hood obscuring his face. Oh, never mind. We're leaving. Now. If I'm not too mistaken, we should be leaving soon anyway. Another country to travel to tomorrow," he added lightly.

With a flick of his wand and a swish of his cloak, Voldemort left his dumbfounded followers in the tunnels of Volterra. One by one, their jaws returned to their rightful places and they followed suit.

* * *

"Harry, Harry?" Ginny whispered softly. He looked so peaceful lying on his bed, his glasses askew, his shirt rumpled from the occasional tossing and turning. She really didn't want to wake him up, but it had been so long since they had talked and she was feeling awfully guilty about it.

Harry, however, was completely oblivious to her presence. He was having the nicest dream. It was reminiscent of the one he had had concerning the Hall of Mysteries, but this time he knew exactly what he was looking for and where to find it. He passed book after book, seeing name and after name – Bronte, Austen, Orczy, Wilde, Rowling, Shakespeare – and then he saw it. In a display all its own he saw more copies than he could have ever hoped for. And he only needed one. With a pale, skeletal hand, he reached out and picked up one.

Harry bolted up.

"It came out today!" Harry's face was animated with an odd excitement and fervor. He was momentarily surprised that there was someone actually present for his outburst, but not at all sorry. "It came out today, Ginny! _Eclipse_!"

"No, it didn't, Harry. It doesn't come out until October."

Harry's face fell. But then how?

"That scum."

"Who, Harry?"

"Voldemort. He's in the bloody United States."

"But how do you know?"

"Because he has _Eclipse_ and I don't."

It wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't entertained any delusions of finding vampires – he hadn't had misguided desires to take-over the Volturi – but who at the end of the day had _Eclipse_ and was going to be able to curl up in a nice armchair and read? It just wasn't fair.

But there was a silver-lining.

"I'm going back to sleep," Harry announced to Ginny. "Unlike a certain _Edward Cullen, _I can sleep and make this all go away." With that, he put his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes, leaving a bewildered Ginny to ponder what in the world had just happened.


	17. Chapter 17: In Which There is a New Stud

A/N: Hi :-) It's been a bit, hasn't it? I never intended to write past what I finished in August, but I've realized how much I miss this. I greatly appreciate all of you who have asked for me to continue it. Here's my question, then, for you: Up until now, I've been committed to keeping the _Twilight_ characters strictly fictional. It's been really fun writing how the Harry Potter characters would respond to _Twilight_ and _New Moon_ rather than doing a full-blown cross-over. I'm entertaining the idea, however, of changing this. I'd like to know, what do you think? Many of you have already said that you would love to see Bella and the Cullens in Hogwarts. I'm not quite sure if that's exactly what I'll end up doing, but I might. So leave a review and I guess the result will be obvious in chapters to come. Here's a short chapter to tide you over until then!

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 17: In Which There is a New Student_

* * *

Harry had spent a rather nice night sleeping. His dreams had been peaceful. He hadn't gotten lost in twisting stone tunnels or killed any Death Eaters. There had been no flashes of annoyance or malevolence, only a deep feeling of contentment. He had spent the night in a beautiful meadow, imagining that he could sparkle…

But that had been the night. Now it was morning and the minute he had opened his eyes, Ron had pounced on him, saying the ominous words, "Have you heard?"

Harry groaned and stretched to grab his glasses off of the nightstand. "Heard what, Ron?"

"There's a new student."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "A new student? We don't get new students midyear. We don't get new students beyond first year, do we?"

"It's a transfer student. Or at least that's what he says. Rumor has it otherwise…" At this, Ron grimaced.

Harry knew he'd never get anything out of Ron if he didn't feign at least some interest. And to be honest, he was a tad bit curious. "He?"

"Yes, _he_. Harry, I have a question for you."

"Does it have anything to do with the exchange student?"

"Well, in a roundabout way. Do you like red-heads?"

"I am dating your sister, Ron."

"Besides her. It's just… well…. honestly!" Ron's face reddened in indignation as Harry looked at him confusedly. "What is the difference between red hair and bronze!?"

Harry groaned. _No, no, no. No more Edward Cullen!_ "Ron, answer me this. And please be honest. Tell me that the new student does not have bronze colored hair."

Ron looked at Harry morosely. "I wish I could, mate. Word has it that he is 'unbelievably handsome.'"

Harry ripped off his bed covers and grabbed his clothes. Ron just stared at him. "Well, come on, Ron!"

"And do what?"

"I don't know. Go check this new student out. Go to the library and look up new hexes. I have no bloody idea, but we can't simply sit here and do nothing!"

Ron shrugged and followed Harry as he flew out of their dormitory in search of the new student. They didn't need to look far. As soon as they reach the Great Hall, they were met with the sight of a horde of girls surrounding an unfamiliar student.

The worst sight of all was Ginny and Hermione standing directly to the right of the new boy, giggling madly and… were they really batting their eyelashes?

Harry heard one girl call out, "Your eyes are such a beautiful golden color!"

The new student mumbled a nervous, "They're actually more of a light hazel." He truly did look uncomfortable. His hands were shoved into his pockets and he seemed to be rocking back and forth.

"Your skin is lovely! So pale!" Another girl shouted over the incessant chatter. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I have sensitive skin. I don't go outside very often." The girls erupted in laughter. Someone latched onto the new boy's arm. She looked disappointed for a second but then grinned brightly.

"Let's all go outside! I'm sure your _sensitive_ skin could handle a little bit of sunshine. The lake _glitters_ beautifully when the sun is out. You must see it!"

Harry rolled his eyes again, yet he didn't feel any pity for this new student. He realized he had no idea what his name was, although it was very probable that no one did. Everyone most likely assumed it was Edward.

Harry noticed that he and Ron were almost the only boys in the Great Hall. The lone other was standing in the corner, openly glaring at the new student. It took Harry a minute to realize that the boy was Malfoy, only something must have gone terribly wrong with a spell; the ends of his hair were an atrocious shade of orange while his roots were his signature platinum blonde.

Harry redirected his attention to the new student and saw that the girls were now herding him towards the door. Harry noticed that the boy was staring at Ron and him beseechingly. Harry fought off any feelings of goodwill and turned to walk away. Ron followed him as they made their way out of the Great Hall. Ron pointed toward the dormitories, but Harry just shook his head. Ron shrugged, and they split ways to ponder their miserable lives on their own.

Harry watched as Ron told the Fat Lady the password and entered the Gryffindor common room. Harry continued down the hall, making a left to go towards the empty classrooms. As soon as he turned the corner, he slumped against the wall and sat down on the cold stone floor.

_This fascination with Edward Cullen is becoming sickening_, he thought. _He _isn't_ a real person… vampire… whatever. I shouldn't have to worry about losing my friends, my girlfriend, to a fictional character._

"Good day, Potter. Or should I say 'bad day'?" Harry looked up to see a dark figure looming above him. He grunted his acknowledgement.

"May I ask what is wrong with the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry didn't miss the sneering tone Snape used when he said the Boy-Who-Lived, but Harry was just happy to have an ounce of attention. When had he ever suffered from a lack of attention? Oh, the Dursley's… That was how bad this was. It was comparable to his time with the Dursley's.

"Edward Cullen," Harry sighed.

"Again, Potter?"

"I'm sure he will continue to be a problem for many years to come."

"A shame, I'm sure."

"Certainly for the male population."

"Hmm." Then Snape did something unexpected. He lifted the hem of his robe and sat down next to Harry. Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Potter, I'm bored."

"Bored?"

"Exceedingly so. Hogwarts has never had this degree of idleness in all the years I've been here."

"There's a new student."

"An odd occurrence, but boring nonetheless."

"The girls do not seem to think so."

"I am not a girl, Potter."

"You looked lovely in Mrs. Longbottom's attire."

"I'll ignore that comment."

All of a sudden Snape twitched in agony. Snape glared at his forearm before lifting his sleeve to confirm the source of the pain… as if it could be anything else.

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, barely interested.

"Of course, Potter. Who else?"

"You best be going then. I'm sure he can provide you with some excitement."

"Indeed," Snape replied dryly. "Unfortunately not the kind of excitement I was looking for." He sighed and dusted off his robes as he rose. "Have fun with your Edward Cullen."

"Have fun with your Lord Voldemort."

Snape glared and left Potter moping on the floor.


	18. Chapter 18: In Which There is The Great

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 18: In Which There is The Great Disappointment  
_

* * *

Ginny slammed the door to her dormitory and quickly locked the door. She proceeded to fling herself onto her bed, disregarding the books and clothes that fell off it as a result. She pounded her pillow in anger. Honestly, who did Alan Michael Johnson think he was?

He certainly was no Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. Sure, he might have bronze hair. His eyes might be golden. He could be described as devilishly good-looking. But did he sparkle in the sun?

_No_. He did not.

"Argghh!!" Ginny screamed into her pillow. The absolute worst was the fact that she was angry at herself. Not only had she had her hopes utterly dashed, but she had wanted it to be Edward! She had wanted it to be Edward so he could look at her and be instantly besotted and make away with her in the night!

She was a terrible person.

Granted, she was like every girl in the school, taken or otherwise; she wasn't the only one mooning over a boy who was clearly not her boyfriend.

But she still felt like a terrible person. She wanted to bury herself in a big hole in the Forbidden Forest. Her pillow and blankets would have to suffice. She burrowed into her mountain of quilts and sheets and tried to fall asleep.

There was a light knocking at the door, but Ginny ignored it. She couldn't stand to look at anyone right now. She'd either feel guilty or be disappointed that it wasn't a Cullen. But the knocking was persistent. It seemed as if the person had been tapping on the door for ages.

"Come in," Ginny groaned.

The person opened the door and stepped into the room cautiously. "Ginny?"

"What?"

Hermione laughed. "Why do you sound so dejected?"

Ginny's head peeked out from under her covers, and she stared at Hermione. "We just thought Edward Cullen transferred to our school and it wasn't him. What isn't there to be depressed about?"

"Oh, I'm sure a great many things. I have news…"

"What kind of news?"

"More new students."

"More?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Why are we getting new students all of a sudden?"

"I'm not sure, but there are _six _of them."

"Six?" Ginny couldn't help but consider the implications of such a number. Surely, a group of six students coming to a school together was highly unusual. "There wouldn't perchance be three girls and three boys?"

"There would," Hermione smiled.

Ginny began scheming. Edward was irrevocably in love with Bella, right? There was no changing that, was there? Well, the tests of that had been rather weak. Jessica? Lauren?

Oh, who was she kidding?

But honestly, just the opportunity to gaze at his perfect visage, his godly physique… Ginny could settle for that.

Ginny noticed that Hermione's eyes were especially bright. She seemed to know something else and it was killing her not to spill. "What else do you know?"

"I may know their last names…"

Ginny started, but her movement was constricted by her blankets. She tried to disentangle herself, but she gave up and just looked at Hermione. "And?!"

There was another knock at the door. This one was louder than Hermione's had been, almost desperate sounding. Then there was another knock… and another. Who was causing such a racket? Ginny looked at Hermione, but she wasn't there anymore.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked confusedly.

"Yes, it's me. Let me in already, would you? You've locked the door somehow and I can't seem to figure out the counter-spell."

So she'd never been in the room. Ginny had fallen asleep. No new students… Ginny tumbled out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thump. Her blankets were still wrapped all around her.

Ginny got to her feet and hobbled over to the door. Hermione came in as soon as she managed to open the door and began laughing. Ginny glared at her, clearly not amused.

"Hermione, why the does the world hate me?" She threw herself back onto her bed in what she meant to be a dramatic manner but was really more pathetic with the blankets flailing about.

Hermione stifled another giggle. "I have no idea, but if it hates you, it loathes me." Her smile was gone, replaced by a grim frown.

"Why? What happened?"

"You'll never believe me."

"Of course I will. What is it?"

"Well, you know The Great Disappointment?"

Ginny cringed. "It only happened an hour ago."

"It seems two people who witnessed The Great Disappointment thought it would be fun to scrounge up some glitter and glue and plaster their entire bodies with it."

"No!"

"And then go outside."

"You can't be serious! Those idiots – surely you could tell!"

"Everyone was so depressed after realizing that… that… boy… wasn't… Edward… you can imagine how anyone would grasp at any hope…"

"Oh, no."

"Harry and Ron are in the hospital wing."

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME? HARRY AND RON?"

"They were completely trampled. To their credit, there were very well-covered. Truly looked like diamonds walking around until you got up close, and by then it was too late. So many people…"

"Pity they didn't try to make themselves indestructible while they were at it."

"Are you going to go visit Harry?"

"And say what, Hermione? You're a moron and should have thought better than to try to imitate Edward Cullen by covering yourself in glitter?" She finally managed to free herself from her sheets and folded her arms.

"It was probably just a joke to them. They were most likely trying to divert some of the attention back to themselves. I think both of them were depressed by the amount of interest Alan garnered before we realized he wasn't Edward."

"Why are you defending them?"

"ImighthavethoughtthatRonwasEdwardandflungmyselfintohisarmsproclaimingthatIlovehim."

Ginny stared at her. Hermione could not possibly have said what Ginny thought she said. Even if she had thought it was Edward, she would never be so bold. She would never…

"Oh, Ginny. You should have seen his face. I don't think I've ever seen someone so red. If those other girls hadn't caught up to us and proceeded to walk all over them, I can't imagine what I would have done. The words had just spilled out of my mouth and then I realized it was Ron. What am I going to do?"

"It never happened."

"But Ginny, it did!"

"No, it didn't. Ignore it."

"I can't ignore something so monumental, Ginny! I told Ron I love him!"

"But you didn't mean to say it to Ron, Hermione! You thought he was Edward! He had to realize that. He was the numbskull covered in glitter. He's lucky he didn't blind someone sparkling like that."

"He was rather dazzling…"

"WHAT?"

"I meant sparkling like that!" Ginny noticed that Hermione was blushing. She couldn't possibly… it was unfathomable that… there was no way…

"Hermione, do you like Ron?"

"No, of course not! I was just caught up in the moment! I really thought he was Edward!"

"Why are you blushing then?"

"It's just so embarrassing. I'm utterly mortified that I acted so impulsively. I flung myself into his arms like some helpless Gothic heroine for Hogwarts' sake." Hermione hid her face in her hands, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the memory. "Ron must think I'm a fool."

"He was probably flattered."

Hermione lifted her head and gave a small smile. "Probably. His head has most likely inflated to twice its normal size."

"I would bet even more. You said a whole horde of girls chased after them, didn't you?"

"Almost everyone that was in the Great Hall earlier was there."

"See, he was probably so distracted that he didn't even hear you correctly."

"I suppose one can hope. But he turned so red just after I said it…" Hermione sighed, then said wistfully, "I guess I'll try to forget about it until I see him. Things will surely work out."

"That's the right attitude, Hermione. Let's just forget about this whole day and go get some food downstairs. There's bound to be chocolate of some sort."

"Brilliant."

* * *

Six figures stared puzzled at the congregation of students before them. Why hadn't anyone taken notice of them yet? They were down in the Great Hall, watching the children gorge themselves on the platters of food that kept appearing. Every once in awhile, a sob was heard over the clatter of plates and forks and glasses.

"Emotional eating. They all seem so depressed," the one said, taking in the Great Hall that she had seen so many times before.

"Well, not every one of them. The females are depressed. The males are… angry and bitter," another observed.

"It's odd. Looking into their minds, it appears that they're all thinking of the same thing, yet the picture is slightly distorted from one to the next as if they're dwelling on something they've never actually seen."

"Do you believe it is ethical to practice Occlumency on your students, Professor Snape?" McGonagall asked sharply. She turned her withered glare to the figure next to her, who responded by looking smug.

"You seemed to want to know why they were all acting so strangely. I simply thought it would be easiest to delve into their thoughts and see."

"My glimpses of the future reveal that this will pass upon a highly anticipated arrival."

"Rubbish, Sybill. They just need something festive to change the mood." Professor Flitwick said to Professor Trelawney. "My holiday decorations always lift the students' spirits. There must be some kind of occasion coming up."

"They will come out of their dour moods on their own," Professor McGonagall said with finality. "There is nothing for us to do." She looked at her fellow professors – Snape, Flitwick, Trelawney, Hagrid, and Sprout – and sighed. "Snape, I'd like to see you in my office. The rest of you, return to your classrooms and teach your lessons as usual. They'll come out of it, you'll see."


	19. Chapter 19: In Which the Spell is Cast

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 19: In Which the Spell is Cast_

* * *

Wormtail was humming softly to himself as he made his way to Voldemort's self-proclaimed lair. It had been an entire day since Wormtail had heard even a word from his master and he had decided it was something he rather liked. It was pleasant. He wasn't being belittled or being made to do terrible, awful, monstrous things. It was enough to make him consider trying to escape permanently, despite the impossibility of such a feat.

Wormtail put the sack of flour he had purchased at the local Muggle grocery down on the counter as soon as he entered the lair's surprisingly well-equipped kitchen. He had been distraught when he had realized that he was missing such a vital ingredient for his cheese soufflé. But now he was sure that he had everything he needed for his personal specialty, including the most important part – cheddar cheese.

He continued to hum as he collected the eggs, milk, butter, and cheese from the refrigerator. Peaceful domestic life suited him. He resolved to find Voldemort a new obsession if he ever he got over this one. The man clearly needed hobbies beyond pursuing immortality and the destruction of one Harry Potter.

After the initial preparation and precisely thirty-two minutes of baking, the soufflé was ready. Wormtail anxiously held his breath and eased the oven door open. His dish was almost a picture of perfection. He let out a slight sigh of relief as he placed his mitted hands securely around the soufflé and began to carefully –

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Wormtail threw the soufflé into the air as he screamed. One hand clutching his chest and the other the wand in his pocket, he turned around to see what in the world had just fallen from the ceiling to land loudly behind him. The sight that met his eyes was incomprehensible.

"YOU!" Wormtail yelled at the figure lying prostrate on the floor. He took a few steps back as the figure rose from the ground and began brushing itself off.

"Of course. Who else would be in _my_ lair in the middle of the afternoon?"

"But… but… you… you… just fell from the ceiling!" Wormtail sputtered. He took a cursory glance up and noticed for the first time that the ceiling that had previously been above the kitchen had been removed, revealing the dusty and outdated interior of the room above. There were three decrepit beams supporting the angled ceiling of that room, although one looked like it had been recently reinforced.

"I certainly did not fall," Voldemort replied defiantly, looking disdainfully at the shards of white porcelain and destroyed soufflé. With of a flick of the wrist, the soufflé was sitting on the counter, fluffy and golden. Wormtail sighed.

"What were doing up there?"

"Sleeping. Quite soundly, I might add, until you came lumbering in humming that awful tune."

Wormtail pouted as he gazed mournfully at his soufflé. His soufflé looked perfect. Too perfect.

In a barely interested tone, Wormtail inquired as to why sleep had required the removal of an entire floor.

"I may have been sleeping upside down."

"Upside-down, my Lord?"

"Upside-down. As in the way of a fictional vampire. I may not be able to give up sleep entirely, but I can alter my habits to become more like the vampires of faerie lore."

"I thought they traditionally slept in coffins."

"Eh, too uncomfortable. You can't imagine how claustrophobic it was," Voldemort said lightly, poking the tip of his wand into the soufflé. It immediately fell. "I went for the more bat-like approach."

"Ah," Wormtail said understandingly, although he didn't understand at all. He didn't really care to understand. His poor soufflé…

"Arm."

"What?!"

"Arm. Now. I need to beckon my Death Eaters."

Peace and happiness could never last when Voldemort was around. Despite the brief reprieve, nothing had apparently changed. Wormtail begrudgingly proffered his arm. He held his tongue as the Dark Mark began to burn and the house began to shake with the arrival of Death Eaters.

As they began to arrive, Voldemort made his way outside and Wormtail was left to point the Death Eaters in the right direction. He was startled when Snape arrived, looking distinctly put-out. When he noticed Wormtail staring at him, Snape glared at him menacingly. Wormtail fought the urge to cower and turn into a rat and instead lifted his silvery hand, indicating which way to go. Snape's mouth turned up into a sneer and he made his way out the door.

Once the last Death Eater had arrived, Wormtail donned his cloak and travelled up the well-weathered path to the woods that surrounded Voldemort's hide-out. It wasn't long before he could make out the warm glow of candles floating among the trees. He soon saw Voldemort, standing in the center of shrouded figures in masks. Wormtail sighed and pulled his own mask down onto his face, although he thought they were downright silly when no one else was going to see them anyway.

The Death Eaters were murmuring amongst themselves, wondering where their master had disappeared to the last time they had seen him and why they hadn't been contacted since. A few had clearly been happy about being left alone whereas others had apparently felt lost and unguided. As soon as Wormtail joined the circle, a hush fell over those gathered and Voldemort began to speak.

"I have always been ambitious, my friends. I have always aspired to greatness. There was a time that I had unquestionably achieved greatness. But with that greatness came the ability to fall, and I did. I was defeated. Ambition led to my greatest dream, but it also led to my greatest nightmare.

"But I survived defeat. I did not only survive it but also retained my ambition. Death did not humble me. It did not prove itself to be an unconquerable enemy.

"When last we met like this, I tried and failed to defeat the Potter boy. It will not happen again. I will not settle to fade away, a broken wizard. I – we will be great again. I have the final answer to the problems that plague us and then we will be unstoppable.

"All is set for the spell in which I have constructed. Now we begin."

Voldemort lifted his wand and began a complicated series of wand movements and incantations. The Death Eaters looked on until Voldemort stopped abruptly and glowered at his followers.

"Why aren't any of you doing anything?" he screeched.

"My Lord, you have not yet given us our instructions," Wormtail mentioned softly.

"Ah," Voldemort muttered, quickly flicking his wand. A rather large piece of parchment with several words scratched out and others written hastily in the margin appeared in mid-air. He cleared his throat and began reading intently.

"_Welcome, my Death Eaters. Thirteen years… thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer –" _Several of the Death Eaters began coughing uncomfortably. Something told them they had heard this before…

"Um, Master?" Wormtail spoke up.

"What?"

"I don't think those are the instructions."

"What do you mean 'I don't think those are the instructions'? Since when do you think, Wormtail?"

"Well, it's just that your opening is slightly reminiscent of what you said upon your rebirthing. I know it's an awfully splendid speech and you did take such a long time composing it and only got to say it once, but it might be a little more pertinent to tell us what we're doing before… well, we're massacred by the blood-thirsty vampires or mauled by werewolves in these woods."

"No one is going to come massacre us." But Voldemort looked a bit flustered. He was mildly concerned that he had begun reading his gloating speech that he had written and memorized for his rebirthing instead of his instructions for his grand scheme. Where did he put _that_ blasted parchment?

Well, he didn't need it. He didn't need his Death Eaters for this. He had memorized it well enough, just not well enough to break it down step by step for them.

Shaking his head, he began the spell again. The Death Eaters stared at him as he became a flurry of rapid movement. Eventually, two words rang out into the air and all was still.

"_Appareo vampyr_."

Then eight figures appeared.

And Voldemort swore under his breath.


	20. Chapter 20: In Which Voldemort's Logic F

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 20: In Which Voldemort's Logic Fails and a Fire Burns_

* * *

As Voldemort saw it, he had four options. He disliked every single one of them.

Snape saw three options. He loved every single one of them.

Wormtail saw no options. This was not really a surprise.

The eight figures before them were far too confused to even begin considering any options.

Everyone else still couldn't get over the fact that Voldemort had sworn. That usually indicated something bad. Really, really bad. Time-to-risk-one's-life-with-the-slight-chance-of-escape bad.

It was Wormtail who final spoke up. "That wasn't supposed to happen, was it my Lord?"

"No."

"What was supposed to happen?"

Voldemort pondered this. He didn't actually know. Beckoning vampires instead of wasting time seeking them had seemed like a good idea. Now…

* * *

There was a reverent silence as they looked upon the burning pile with a mixture of relief and pride. Their plan hadn't been perfect, but in the end, it had worked out. Ashes blew around in the wind, threatening to singe one or two of the figures' robes. The smell was odd but not entirely unpleasant; to them, it smelled like victory. They gazed into the blinding flames and smoke and sighed.

"It was the only way," someone finally muttered. There were murmurs of agreement.

"There was nothing else we could have done," another added gravely.

"Well, I think this calls for celebration. Anyone have any marshmallows? Hot dogs? Butter beer?"

Harry looked blankly at Ron. "Marshmallows?"

Ron appeared flustered, "It's an American muggle tradition. You roast marshmallows and stick them in between two graham crackers with chocolate. I don't know. It sounds delicious." He rubbed his stomach longingly. He hadn't had anything good to eat since they had been in the hospital wing.

Harry laughed boisterously. The other male students of Hogwarts eventually joined in, whooping and hollering and dancing around the fire. Some clutched their heads as they did so, trying to ignore their blinding headaches. Perhaps _Accio Twilight_ hadn't been the best method of collecting all of the offending texts, but wasn't the saying, "No pain, no gain?" A few concussions were a paltry price to pay to destroy the plague of romanticism and _Edward Cullen_-ness that had blanketed Hogwarts. The question was _why hadn't they thought of it sooner_?

True, burning the books wasn't a permanent solution. They knew that. Yet, it was a perfect way to channel their frustration and feel like they were doing _something_. And it felt rather good. As he watched his mates celebrate around the fire, Harry felt a happiness akin to what the Quileutes must have felt when the Cullens left Forks.

"Do you think the girls will try to kill us?" Neville asked timidly. He was standing a bit away from the fire, clearly upset that they had burned hundreds of books. It was near sacrilege, regardless of the book being burned.

"We'll simply have to present a united front," Malfoy stated, to the surprise of everyone – including himself. No one noticed that he was having trouble putting his "Rosalie Fan Club" shirt in the fire.

"You know, they'll just recreate them from the ashes. It's not like burning books permanently destroys them like it does vampires – at least not when you have magic," Seamus said glumly.

Harry refused to feel morose. "We'll at least have some peace."

Then there was a blood-curdling scream that sounded distinctly like, "RON!!!" Perhaps a bonfire had been too conspicuous…

All of the boys dispersed, some even running into the Forbidden Forest. Ron was left to think, _why me_?

* * *

I apologize for the short chapter… and that it's been over a year since I last updated. Thank you to all of you that have stuck with the story or have recently discovered it and have been kind enough to favorite and review. I hope to have the next chapter up soon!


	21. Chapter 21: In Which Ron and Snape Just

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

_Chapter 21: In Which Ron and Snape Just Want It to End_

* * *

Ron pulled at his hair in frustration before banging his head repeatedly on the table.

"Come on, Ron, this isn't so bad. There isn't too much left anyway," Hermione said with a smile. Ron lifted his head so he could glare at her.

"What are you talking about, Hermione? I haven't recognized any of the last three chapters. How can you tell that we're nearing the end?" he whined.

Hermione put a consoling hand on Ron's shoulder before pushing the typewriter back towards him. "The chapters haven't been quite that different. Luna just replaced the ballet studio with a greenhouse and Lavender changed James' name to yours." Hermione laughed lightly. "I knew she was still bitter about your break-up."

Ron hit his head against the table again, just barely missing the typewriter. Hermione had found it in the Room of Requirement when the girls had decided how to penalize Ron for burning the books. He had argued incessantly that it hadn't even been his idea, but it had been futile. Hermione hadn't listened and the other girls had been too excited about the punishment to care.

They were collectively re-writing _Twilight._

It hadn't been their intention to re-write it, but Ron noticed far too many disparities as he was forced to type every word that came out one of the girls' mouths. In order to avoid conflict, only one girl at a time told her version of a chapter while Hermione was there to keep watch over Ron. Lavender had just left the room, and Ron had begged Hermione for a brief reprieve.

"It would have been easier to piece together the burned books, Hermione," Ron said at last, not bothering to lift his head from the table.

"They would have smelled like ash."

"Fine, it would have been easier to purchase new ones."

"Too much of a hassle."

"You don't think this is a hassle? I have to sit here and type as everyone changes details of the story! You and I both know that Jacob was not four feet tall with excessive acne when he told Bella about the Cold Ones!"

"Details."

"Important details!"

"This is your punishment, Ron. You can only blame yourself."

"Malicious she-devil," Ron muttered under his breath. _At least Lavender changed Victoria's name to Hermione when she changed James'_, he thought. _Serves her right. _

"Let's just get this over with."

* * *

An awkward silence had descended over the Death Eaters as they watched Voldemort pace back and forth. Every once in a while Voldemort would pause, glare at the figures he had beckoned, and resume his pacing. The sound of his footfalls resonated through the woods.

Finally one of the Death Eaters sputtered, "Why does that one look different?" He motioned toward the brown-haired girl clutched securely against the bronze-haired one's side.

The girl sighed. The boy, sensing her discomfort, murmured, "You are by far the most beautiful creature here." She huffed – over half of the people present were wearing masks. The rest of the vampires stood strangely silent as they watched the Death Eaters with thinly veiled curiosity. Wormtail emitted a tiny squeak as he noticed the largest figure staring at him.

At last, Voldemort ceased his pacing. Gesticulating wildly, he began muttering angry curses again. The Death Eaters picked up on "Potter boy" and "vampires" and "pathetic cheese soufflés." Wormtail blushed.

The brunette seemed to have enough of the strange situation. With only a moment's delay, she swiftly picked up a small stick from the ground and stepped away from the vampires. In a brave voice, she stated, "Voldemort, I challenge you to a duel." Her crudely fashioned wand wavered only slightly as she directed it toward her opponent.

The girl felt the boy quickly resume his place beside her. She could tell he was tempted to grasp her and situate her safely behind him but was glad that he made no move to restrain her.

The Death Eaters were frozen in place, glancing back and forth between Voldemort and the girl with horrified eyes. The girl, seemingly satisfied with the Death Eaters' immobility, turned her full focus on Voldemort. He looked at her incredulously.

"You're not a vampire. You're not even a wizard. And that – " he said, pointing at her wand, " – is a stick that you just picked up off the ground."

Undeterred, she began a series of complicated hand gestures and uttered as many combinations of Latin words as she could think of. With one last glance at the boy behind her, she took a deep breath and struck.

The collective gasp was deafening.

Voldemort lay on the ground, bleeding. The vampires looked upon the prone figure with revulsion, as if the blood were spoiled.

"Bite me, one of you!" Voldemort cried. "Bite me!"

With a quick movement, Wormtail morphed into his Animagus form. He scurried over to the Dark Lord and, after a moments pause, chomped down on one of his fingers.

"AHHHH! You demented rat! Now I probably have some rodent disease. It's not bad enough I'm already dying, is it?" Voldemort screeched as a rather scared looking rat ran back towards the other Death Eaters. Malfoy looked appalled at the bleeding wound on the Dark Lord's digit as Snape discretely chuckled.

Wormtail turned back into to his human form and clutched his wand nervously.

"I… apologize… most adamantly… my Lord. You did say 'bite me,' my Lord."

"I was speaking to the vampires, you fool!"

Wormtail had the decency to look ashamed, bowing his head. He did not, however, relinquish the tight grip on his wand.

Voldemort continued to moan. He had stopped bleeding, yet blood stained the ground beneath him. Although there was not much, the dark hue of the blood looked sinister. Malfoy removed a handkerchief from his cloak and held it over his nose.

"I can't believe you stabbed me with that," Voldemort admonished. He pointed a skeletal finger at the girl's wand. The tip of it was stained the same color as the ground.

"I was trying to disarm you," the girl said defensively, not looking directly at Voldemort. "I would say it was an effective method." The boy squeezed her arm reassuringly but quickly removed the stick from her grasp. He could tell she was desperately trying to ignore the blood everywhere.

Voldemort clutched his bloodied arm and rasped, "But now I'm dying! Why will no one save me?"

Snape shook his head sadly at the Dark Lord's prone figure. His amusement was wearing off, quickly becoming replaced by boredom – again. Voldemort's lack of successes was just becoming depressing. Raising his wand and sparing the outsiders a brief glance, Snape murmured the banishing charm. He hated cleaning up Voldemort's messes.

* * *

Bella gasped, startled to find herself sitting upright in her own bed. She turned slightly and released a sigh as she realized Edward was lying beside her. Edward was glancing around warily, but he placed a soothing hand on Bella's shoulder.

"It was a dream, Bella. It was just a dream," Edward murmured, trying to calm her down.

Bella fell back into her pillows. "It was so vivid, Edward! You and I were in it – and your family – and the Death Eaters and Voldemort!"

Although it was dark, Bella noticed Edward's eyes narrow as he glanced toward the bookshelf in her room. "I don't think you're allowed to read those books before bed again."

Bella's breathing slowed as she sought comfort in Edward's strong arms. Of course Edward was right. It had only been a dream. She laughed softly to herself. "Edward?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"I stabbed Voldemort with a stick. Isn't that funny?"

Edward smiled, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can't imagine."

It had, after all, only been a dream.


End file.
